And there I live among the Clams
by ausumist
Summary: Namimori is an average town. The people are not extreme. The city is completely mainstream. The location might as well be off the map. These are the lies Alana told me.-OC story.
1. Flashforward Approximately Three Weeks

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the main character**

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><p><em>Flashforward to November 10th<em>

Almost everyone is gone from the class room and enjoying the time they don't have to be at school. I can see groups of Namimori uniforms leaving the school but don't recognize any of the students wearing them. Most are too far away to be clearly defined. I shift my eyes back on the floor where everything has fallen, all of my scattered papers, chargers, pen, and pencils. With a complaining sign, I finally bed down and clean up the mess.

In a short moment, I find another pair of hands helping me. Looking up, I see they're Yamamoto Takeshi's. I shoot him a grateful smile before looking back down to my assortment of school material. He scoops up and hands me some of the papers on the ground. I stuff them into one of my binders before shoving the binder into my satchel.

"So where's Tsuna and Co.?" I inquire to fill the silence.

I'm not particularly interested in talking to him, but I feel as if I should. As if I'm obligated to since he's helping me pick up my pens.

He flashes one of those smiles he has before cheerfully telling me that they went on without him. I don't think he meant it the way it came out, but he makes it sounds like Tsuna pulled a jerk move and ditched him. First he pretends to die in an attempt to get away from me and now he ditches his friends? Man, what an asshole. At least Gokudera-san makes it clear he doesn't like him.

I giggle at my dry joke, and Yamamoto-san looks interested in what I am chuckling about. "I just had a funny thought. " I say and wave it off. We finish picking up my scattered stuff, and after it's put away, we silently decide to leave together. A mutual understanding without words, you get a lot of those with Yamamoto-san.

"How's life?" I ask making some small talk.

He laughs and lightly says, "Well, I like a girl."

Any cheer or easiness I just had faded. Why is he telling me this? Is it me? We've rarely hung out or anything so why would he be telling me this? This situation has suddenly turned awkward.

"Oh," I say as if appreciating him telling me this. "Who?"

I hope it is anyone but me.

With another merry smile he answers, "It's Sensei."

"Oh." I say, relived it isn't me. "Oh!" I gasp, suddenly realizing who it is. "OH!" I shout, shocked at who it is.

In a whisper, I hush out "You like Sensei? Like, seriously?"

He's laughs and gives me an amused look. His eyes squint in laughter and his face becomes faintly pink on both sides. Aw, he's abashed. He must really trust me to confide in me, and we're not even friends. Then again, he could have other motives for this. After all, we're not even friends, yet he tells me he likes her? I can't believe he likes someone six years older than him. That takes guts.

I smile and run my hand over my scalp, pushing back my brown hair. "So, I don't mean to be cliché. But…are you going to tap that?"

His face brightens into a red color, and he chokes on a breath. It's impossible for me not to laugh at the awkwardness. "Okayyy," I say to myself out loud. "Maybe not so forward."

With an uncharacterized cough of composure, he tries to be a little less…tense. It's kind of funny that even the chilled out Yamamoto Takeshi can get stirred up about a crush. We smile at each other, but in reality we're both smiling because there's nothing else we can do in this uncomfortable air.

"Why are you telling me this?" I bluntly ask, dropping the awkwardness and the smile.

He smiles again, but then again, he's always smiling. "Well, I helped you with Tsuna."

I immediately flashback to the lie I once told, or rather implied, to him. It had just tumbled out of my mouth that day. I wasn't even acquainted with Tsuna when I said that, it was just to get his address. I think about it for half a second longer before responding back to Yamamoto with a realization.

"You didn't help me at all!" Okay, it's more of an accusation. "You didn't even tell me where he lived so I could confess!"

He frowned at me. "I encouraged you."

"You also laughed at me." I remind him pointedly. "Give it up Yamamoto. I see the flaws in everyone."

He looks at me like he does at Gokudera-san, as if he's a nice guy for putting up with me. Suddenly I'm insulted. "What do you want?" I demand briskly. We tap down the steps of the stairs, and upon reaching the end I can see the school door leaking light into the entryway.

I remind myself that he told me of his crush, and the thought settles me down. He did tell me of his crush, which kind of inspires loyalty toward him. I'm obligated now. "Do want me tell her?"

He smiles, but it's a bitter sweet one. What did she do to him? "She already knows."

I sign, feeling his pain. His expression is deep and wistful; it's the look of one sided love. My sympathy dissipates any petulant feeling I have, and my face softens. "Let's stop for some ice cream on the way to your place. I could so go for a cold but sweet snack."

Instantly, he is back to good old easy going Yamamoto Takeshi and with a cheer in his tone, he agrees. "Sure!"

He must really like ice cream.

I lead us to the a little shop I know and in the meantime we talk about "Sensei", and it turns out he doesn't know what I know. What she told me after getting back from the future. I want to tell Yamamoto, give him hope. But it's not my place to give away secrets I was trusted with. Instead, I tell him that a little arrogance goes a long way with girls and so does knowing how to please a woman. Our faces might be red as we talk about this, but nonetheless we talk about it. However, there is no lacking of vague words.

Somehow, the conversation is turned into being about me and Tsuna. I don't like the guy, but nonetheless Yamamoto-san prods me about him. "Shouldn't I be the one prodding you about him?" I point out. "You're the one he's best friends with."

He laughs and the sound rings in my ears a bit. Yamamoto-san has a nice laugh and smile, just as Alana said. "Isn't it the same on my side?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I guess."

I point to the shop only a few yards from us, and he nods in acknowledgment before carrying on our ever-so interesting conversation. When he opens the door for me, I thank him, but our conversation stops inside the shop. We both spot a young girl with brown hair in a side pony tail and a happy face. It's the one brunette girl who was at the future and is with the boys a lot.

I lean closer to Yamamoto-san and whisper for her name. She's told me it before, but I can't really remember.

"That's Haru Miura." He says and waves at the girl before going over to the counter and ordering.

Haru, that's it. "Hey Haru-san!" I greet with Yamamoto-san.

She tries talking to us, but I stick to getting my order from the cashier before she can babble on. The girl seems nice, but I just want my ice cream. Yamamoto-san talks to her, but he makes it short when he sees that another guy's trying to get her attention—and it isn't for ice cream. Haru-san looks at me a little longer than she should have, probably because of the future, but I just challenge her innocent stare with a smirk. We lock eyes, and I tilt my head while pretending to observe her.

"Bye." I say curtly after getting my ice-cream and paying for it.

Yamamoto-san seems to notice all this and laughs. He finds us funny, and I have to admit, we are pretty funny. Joining in on his laugh, I relax and then walk out the door with him. I grimace upon his mint ice cream and just shake my head in disappointment. Mint taste terrible.

"She loves mint." I comment. "To the extreme." I add the last part and laugh.

The boxing guardian may be an idiot, but he has a hell of a catchphrase. I've taken to incorporating it into my everyday speech. Yamamoto-san just keeps up his smiley face, but it turns into a curious expression when my phone rings. It's playing my favorite song by Bon Iver*. The song is in English, so he probably doesn't understand the words. Do Bon Iver even have songs in Japanese?

I answer the phone. "Alana?"

Her voice comes out clearly and loudly from the speaker; Yamamoto-san can hear her. "Who else would it be?"

"I don't know, Santa Clause?" I answer with a snarky tone.

"You're friends came over."

I frown. "I don't have any friend_s_."

There's a laugh at what wasn't a joke, but before she can speak I add. "I'm with Yamamoto-san right now. I'll get home A.S.A.P."

Her reply is short, and then I hang up the phone. Yamamoto-san's a closed book when I look at him, but he's probably just lost in his thoughts. That happens to me a lot. I lick at my vanilla ice cream so it doesn't melt and advise my tall classmate in front of me to do the same.

"I got to go. Sooo, yeah. Good luck with her and everything. You should ask your dad for advice though. He'd probably be helpful in a situation like this."

As we part ways, me to take a left and head into the small forest mountain, him to take a right and go the sushi shop home, I feel as if we've both gotten something useful out of our talk. He got good advice, and I got decent company. Not to mention an excuse for ice cream. However, let's hope that we never have to have that conversation again. Yamamoto-san's a cool guy, but he's not exactly my favorite due to his involvement in this Mafia stuff. It was intriguing, but after a hit attempt, the Mafia doesn't seem like such a cool idea anymore.

I call Alana back now that Yamamoto-san's out of sight. The phone doesn't hesitate to pick up. My heart seems very apparent in my chest and nerves tighten in my stomach.

"Alana?" I ask, making sure it's her.

"Yes, Mia-bo-bia."

"Are people really over?"

She knows about my lack of friends, Hana-chan being the only exception, and she wouldn't refer to any of my acquaintances as friends. She would refer to them as the boys. Yet, she used plural.

Her voice is light and humorous as says, "There are. One is a strapping fellow in a suit, and the other is an older but also strapping lad in a suit. They work for the Ninth Vongola Boss and are here to escort us to him. I hope your hair is already brushed."

"It's not," I say dismally.

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><p><strong><em>Counterpart story:<em>**

_Assholes & Idiots »by DEECAPSLOCKISON_

_My life is full of them. OC story._


	2. Beginning, October 12th

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the main character**

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><p><em>Beginning, October 12th<em>

_[Ring] [Ring]_

I'm seated next to the wall, on the right side of the classroom. Front row, corner desk—perfect for sleeping in class. Now free from my seat, I lazily walk around the room trying to waste the ten minutes given between classes. There isn't much else for me to do. I haven't made a friend yet and probably won't. I came to Japan barely knowing any Japanese and enrolled in the school at the beginning of the new semester, so it's a little late to be reaching out now. I've gotten comfortable being alone anyways.

Before blowing brown bits of hair out of my face, I stretch my back and relax myself. I bet back in America there is some kind of law against forcing people to sit in a chair for over an hour.

"KKKYAA!"

I flinch. Dear god, must they squeal? Looking around at my fellow class mates, I peer over at a few girls who are crowding around the door and whispering in excitement. They're probably fan-girls. I've found plenty of those crawling around Namimori. Which idol is it this time? Somewhat intrigued, I join the whispering girls at the door and follow their eyes. I catch a glimpse of a tall figure and for a moment see the face of a ghost. I stop and stand still in the small mob of girls.

I look again, blinking twice for good vision.

In front of me is a very tall blonde guy with green eyes. The boy is lean and lazy looking, not at all like Alana's accountant (what the hell would he be doing at my school anyways?). The guy's eyes are trained on the girl. With my own glance, I notice that she is kind of pretty. I catch him sneak a glance at her slightly shown off breasts.

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><p>Fondling my chopsticks, I end up breaking them in half out of boredom. The wood splinters and after a guilty glance in the direction of a waiter, I set them down on the Chinese red table cloth. "Wasn't me." I mutter and then push them under my plate. I look back up and see Alana rolling those dark brown eyes at me before taking another bite of her food. I notice her new nails. She must have been to a nail salon recently, the fake nails look new. I give her smile and attempt to find another distraction from the boredom of waiting.<p>

"So, I ran into my first period teacher today."

My cousin nods her head for me to go on, acutely aware of my excessive absences in first period. The only reason I go to school is because Alana thinks an education is important, and I'm living under Alana's roof, so it is Alana's rules.

"And now I have a brain tumor."

I begin to laugh loudly, but quickly muffle the noise with my hands. Alana just gives a deep chuckle and chokes on her food a bit, before flipping around her brownish black hair around and taking another bite. By the time my little tale is done, Alana is finished with her food and we are leaving the cheap restaurant. Our chatting continues as we enter the streets of Namimori, but it dies down into a comfortable silence when we walk into the shopping district.

Upon first coming to Namimori, I clang to Alana life a life preserver. Japan is the first and only foreign country I've ever been to. When Alana left for jobs, I practically begged to go with her. Watching a few people die seemed a lot better than being alone in this place when you are young and scared. But Alana would always refuse, so I was forced to adjust. I've made Namimori my home, and I've grown to like my home.

Lifting my head up, I gaze around the night scenery of downtown Namimori. There are only sprinkles of people on the streets, unlike the waves of people which crowd them during the day. There is more exuberance at this time; people are buzzing with laughter, liquor, and life. I feel the buzzing too, and it makes the whole world look different: shinier.

The toe of my left foot lags against the sidewalk, and suddenly, my body lurches forward. "Uhuh!"I stop the trip by using my hands for balance and then laugh it off. I've never been known for my grace.

Walking, I catch up to Alana and fall into step with her. Together we enjoy the world around us without speaking. That's something we do a lot, hangout with a comfortable muteness. Instead of having to focus and concentrate on just one simple thing like talking, we enjoy the simple comfort each other's presence.

"Where are we going?" I ask suddenly.

A purple sign stands proudly above a shop, and I keep my eyes on it until we walk too far past it, and I must turn around before walking into something. Because knowing my luck, I would run into something.

There is a reply about spending money but it goes in one ear and out the other. I respond listlessly, still trapped in Namimori's enchantment. Alana makes a movement from beside me, and I look away from all the pretty sights out of curiosity. What is with the gaging face? She takes in a breath, releases her nose, and then snorts out. Her shoulders shudder in physical disgust.

"That is goddamn gross! Someone needs some fucking deodorant."

I laugh, unable to help myself. I say the last line out loud, amused by it. She looks at me a twist of her lips and eyebrows raised high. "No dude. I'm serious, it fucking smells."

"What was it?" I inquire. I don't smell anything.

She takes light sniff and shudders again. "Someone has B.O."

I don't smell anything. Is it me? I take a whiff of myself and decided no, it's not me. It must be someone else then, gross. Alana has an intense nose for smelling things, it's like a dog's compared to my own (which is super-duper dull). I wonder if her sense of smell helps her when killing? I don't see how it could, but you never know.

I smile before getting a random shiver. Goosebumps spread along my arms and legs. I attempt to shake them off but it doesn't work. "I hate when that happens." I comment to myself. They're all over and really uncomfortable.

My eyes begin to wildly search for the guy or girl who smells terrible. Looking everywhere, I notice some movement up on a rooftop. It's pretty far away, at least nine to eleven houses away. Wait, they aren't houses; they're just buildings, really big buildings. I squint and take a step forward, but the movement is still too far away.

"I'll be right back," I promise before moving toward the movement.

The crowd is thin, so it's relatively easy to maneuver around. I look up again and see figures this time. The shadows are two males, jumping around wildly on the roofs. I get closer, desperate with curiosity to know what in hell's name is going on.

My breath shortens and I stop. Alana is by my side, composed and serious. It's understandable that she's tense: there are shivers running through me too. The shivers are mixed with fear, excitement, and curiosity. I slightly bite the edge of lip and gawk at the scene before me.

There are two people fighting—not even brawling but fighting. A sword held by some tall man slashes against some object held by a shot one. I look closer at the two, attempting to identify them. One has long silver hair, and is covered in a shiny black outfit. His face is too far away and undefined, but it looks pretty angular and thin. He's winning from what I can tell and is using some kind of sword. There is another person there too, either young or really short. His clothes seem pretty normal, but he has brownish or ginger hair—I like his hair.

One man backhands the other with the hilt of his sword and I flinch at the movement. My bones are so tense, as if I'm the one fighting for my life. The tall figure has such fluent movements. There are no hesitations, just a natural flow of action. I feel my breath hitch, the excitement attempting to choke me. My feet move so that the fighters will stay in view even as they scamper from roof to roof, but no matter what I do, it is impossible to get a good look at them. The poor view makes it harder for them to be seen yet all the more worth it. Still, I could really go for a pair of binoculars right now.

"Oh shit," Alana says and suddenly grabs my wrist.

"Hey!" I yank away and one of her nail digs into my wrist as I do so. "What's your problem?" I demand to know, somewhat annoyed for her distracting me, and somewhat confused for why she looks on edge.

She glances up to the fight then elevates her glance back to me. "Dude. It's time to go. This is not the place to play peanut gallery."

"What the hell is a peanut gallery?" I shake my head; never mind. "You can go," I say slowly, almost unsure. My eyes barely lock with hers; I have to force myself to look away from the sky. "But I'm going to stay here."

"Nuh-uh. You see that white-haired motherfucker up there?" She points upwards, but I'm not really sure at which one. "The guy in all black like he's from the Matrix, or some shit? He's not some guy who plays swordfight for the hell of it. He's like me, but worse. **He is not someone you follow around for fun**."

So he's an assassin? I frown and then smile. This is bad, but it's also good. Damn my teenage curiosity, I shouldn't stay.

"I'm going to stay." My tone is firm and my words feel so right coming out. Alana is about to speak again, but I cut her off, I don't want to have to argue any longer than necessary. "You can go, but I'm going to stay—at a distance."

Her forehead wrinkles, but I can only offer her a slightly a lift of my shoulders for comfort. I'm not going to leave, it's my choice not hers. I just know that I'm going to be alright, it's one of those things I just somehow know. And if I do get killed or severely hurt, oh well. That's my problem not hers, I'll deal with it.

I let my gaze loose and go back to staring at the smaller one getting forced back hopping to another building. The other one catches up just as quickly and is in front of him again.

"I'm not going to leave you by yourself." Her voice seems distant, but I know she's right next to me.

I look to her for a moment; it's almost painful to look away from the action. "Then don't." I grin a shit-eating grin. "Come on, this is pretty exciting shit."

That gets a laugh at of her, an incredulous one at that. "You're an asshole." She comments with another a smirk.

I bat my eyes and shake my head. She is so ridiculous at times, though also right. Ironically enough, I probably get it from her.

"It's none of your business!" a voice yells in Japanese.

My head snaps up. The fighting pair is in an argument. After a few moment of inaudible verbal exchanges, the tall man clashes his sword against the smaller one. "Watch out!" I tell the shorty. Even though he doesn't hear me, he manages to successfully dodge the attack. The one in black leather (I assume its leather), the one with a mane of white hair, chases the shorter one. My eyes continue to follow them in the sky and my grin won't fall. Watching one of them nearly get flung off the building pumps my blood even more, fight, it's starting to rush to the point I feel dizzy.

This guy is an idiot; all he's doing is running away. He keeps going from roof to roof, but if he really wants his attacker to stop chasing him, then he should join the public. Make a big scene and draw attention the fact he is obviously being attacked. He doesn't though. Instead he only blocks the sharp sword and runs to another roof. I squint, noticing a blue light on his head. It's small but strong, like a flashlight but it isn't spreading any light waves. It's just kind of glowing, like a flame.

He's not going be the victor of the fight. His condition is poor, and the white hair man seems to be at ease, excited even. I'm a little scared too, but more than anything amazed. And the part of me which is enthralled by all of this wins out over the slighter part which is scared. Besides, it's not like I am the one who is about to die.

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><p><strong><em>Counterpart story:<em>**

How I Became an Unofficial Pedo »by DEECAPSLOCKISON

Just call me Dee. My cousin and only pal has moved with me to Namimori recently. While she plays cool in school, I'm stuck with a crappy job. My job of being a forced assassin—with no health coverage. But that's the least of my issues.


	3. October 13th

_October 13th_

Coldness. Gathering my limbs, I curl into the fetal position. It's cold. I shouldn't be outside. Why am I outside?

A few more arbitrary thoughts enter my head, arousing more of my consciousness. My eyes peak open and capture harsh golden rays. Ah, the sun is not welcomed here. I should get up, it's cold and I need to go home. It's cold and I don't have any blankets.

"lanna," I groan while turning my head away from the too bright sun.

Opening my eyes completely, Alana a few inches away from me—asleep. Her brown hair is splayed and revealing her neck; I could kill her right now if I wanted to. I don't want to. There is no sign of a movement. 'You look like a corpse', I think to her while staring. My body kind of hurts, but the biting coldness outweighs the ache.

The before me rises, radiating light in shades of yellow and giving the surroundings a glow. The figure of the sun isn't visible to me, but I can tell just by how the light looks. I've stayed up enough nights to notice the sun's different rays. These have less color to them, less weight. They are like the ocean waves which grab your feet, not the rough heavy weights that slam against you.

"Alana." I call to her while shaking her arm.

She stirs a little, but I have to repeat the action before she opens her eyes. The dark brown is an absolute color; there are no shades or patterns to them. Nothing but that dark brown which cloaks all inner thoughts.

"What?" she asks with a low pitch and groggy tone.

"Let's go home, I'm cold."

"Think like an Eskimo," There is a slight break in her words before she adds, "you'll make it." That makes no sense; Eskimo's have nice warm coats, I don't. I want to go home. "Look at me, I'm thinking like a polar bear and doing just fine." She adds closing her eyes again and going back to sleep.

Her tan skin is usually pale, hopefully she is cold too. She isn't going to get up. Okay, I conclude and lay back down. I'm so cold that I scoot toward Alana and snuggle in close to her. My head lies against her chest and her arm lies on my back. Together we drift off to a cold sleep.

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><p>No one is in the house, but seeing my door slightly open doesn't feel right. With the back of my leg, I close the door.<p>

"That was pretty impressive." I comment.

My hand touches the mess which is my hair. It's going to suck to brush. The image of long silver hair flashes through my mind. I think of how the brown-haired youth narrowly avoided getting his head sliced off. None of them actually cut the other, but both had come extremely close to it. They were both so skilled, but I still like the silver hair one more. There's something about him which excites me, something that makes me want join in their squabble.

I reach for my brush and begin running it through my hair. While doing this, I spot a light blue ellipse on my wrist. It had been an accident, but I'm still angry at Alana for bruising me. When she suddenly grabbed my wrist, her fake nail stabbed into my wrist leaving a fine bruise. She had wanted to leave last night, but I wanted to stay. And neither of us wished to concede (I won though).

Eventually, both Alana and I had agreed to follow them. The fight between the two continued for what seemed like hours, and it was considering we fell asleep on a roof watching them. It was a crazy night, maybe even crazier for the fighters. What are they doing right now? They were fighting the last time I saw them, but to stay awake for so long and kill so much energy is silly. Then again, they were fighting while traveling rooftops so anythings possible.

I mutter, "I still can't believe Alana bruised me."

Do I have a clean uniform to wear? No wait. It's Saturday, a half-day. I don't need to go to school.

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><p>"I love how no one questions a teenager not being in school at eleven in the morning." I comment while pretending to try on a pretty blue bracelet. It has silver chains braided into each other with a cheap blue marble in the middle. I like it.<p>

"Yeah." Alana responds while drifting around the boutique.

I ask a question which has been bothering me for a while. "By the way, what's your 'name'?"

"Desma Martinez."

I frown, because I'm going to forget the fake identity name in ten minutes. "Uh, why can't we just call you Dee? I mean, it's not your real, real name after all."

The answer becomes obvious the moment after I say it. Now I look stupid, great.

"Because, Dee is my 'work name' and my middle name, I can't have either going around."

I think she may have taken a deep breath by how her shoulders lifted and then lowered, but I can't be sure. My eyes turn away from her figure as I walk to the other side of the little stand. We're outside in a small market place, the wooden stands drew my attention the moment I saw them.

I spot a silver ring, probably an antique. I love antiques.

"Umm." I respond while running my hands over the rings.

The owner is close to me, looking at a magazine. My fingers keep slipping over the jewelry. The ring touches my palms and I lift it up, before hiding it my grip and keep running my hands over the merchandise. I walk a few steps away and my closed hand runs over the other rings until I reach the end. With a tired yawn, I put a hand over my face and the shove my hand into my pocket. I look at Alana: she still has her back to me. I look at the cashier: she is still on the same page. I'm wearing jeans, and any bulges are hidden by the long shirt I have on.

"_To love you must lower yourself. You must put them above yourself."_

My head shoots to look at some guy standing against the wall. He was looking in a book with a very composed face. That was such a… philosophical and morally correct thing to say. I had to ask or face the consequences of never knowing.

"Uh, excuse me." I interrupt him.

He looks up with blonde bangs handing around his forehead. I scoot a little closer to him, he looks to be in his late twenties to me, but I'm bad when it comes to guessing ages. I've offended and flattered a lot of people that way.

The question comes in a whisper. "Are you Jesus Christ?"

He gaze meets mine and there a subtle calmness about him. It finally hit me as strange that he was blonde when most people in the market have jet black hair. He is also wearing a coat, don't only pop stars where those coats here?

There is a grin on his face. "Nope, but call me if you see him."

I start laughing, embarrassed by myself. "Uh, sorry. That just sounded like a very Jesus-like thing to say."

He lifts up the book and wiggles it for me to recognize them. With an awkward shrug, I apologize for bugging him and he just laughs it off. I wave and then go off to where Alana is standing as a way to hide myself. When my hand touches her arm there is an immediate reaction of her face turning toward me.

"Uhh, what's wrong?" I ask with a smile.

Nothing about her particularly says there is something wrong, but the atmosphere feels off.

"Nothing." She lies while giving an upside down smile.

It's a perfect 'n' and her bottom lips turns pops out more than her top one. It's the exact expression I saw a chimpanzee make once.

I smile, pretending to believe her.

"I'm going to go get a drink." I tell her while pointing my thumb to the vending machine behind me.

It's across the road; I noticed it before we even walked into this shaded stand. It was just standing there against a building, all alone. There wasn't even a bench to keep its company. It was in complete solitude besides for the occasional thirsty walker.

"Cool, cool." She says while nodding her head.

With a wave, I leave the little shop and come to the wide road. On my face I search for the guy who I thought was Jesus, and catch him walking away with another man. With a sign, I look away. Thank goodness the awkward situation was avoided.

I look both ways down the street; there aren't any cars so I cross. There aren't many vehicles being used in Namimori, but there always seem to be tons of people. Today it's so crowded on the streets that I'm more worried about getting stomped to death than I am about getting run over. The cold wind blows and sends a shiver to my whole body. I can feel the goose bumps crawling on me, and try to shake them away by rubbing my arms. It doesn't work.

"I need a warm drink," I mutter to myself.

Fondling with the items in my pocket, I pull out a few coins and then shove them into the machine. I look at all the drinks while deciphering what they say. My Japanese has improved severely upon my arrival in Japan, but it's still pretty broken.

While studying all of the drinks, I catch a few of the Calpis* brands. There are usually vending machines around every corner in Japan. So I have had plenty of time to try out all kinds of nasty drinks. I've come to rely on most Calpis drinks. "Oh my god," I murmur when spotting a drink that said 100% juice. That pretty rare, most drinks here are abnormally sweet and usually the amount of actual juice is .01%. I'm taking it. I press the necessary button and watch as the lonely machine pops out a drink.

_[CRASH!]_

"_AHHH!"_

"Whoa!" The English tumbles from my mouth like how my feet tumble upon the ground. The loud noise causes me too flinch and look up.

My mouth drops.

I'm speechless to the giant cloud ahead. A tall and thin building had something blasting out of it. There's a moment of confusion, and we're all looking around trying to find out what just happened. Then there are two more unexplained blasts. Panic erupts. Masses begin to scream. They're all screaming and running, like hoards of pigs about to be slaughtered.

I back up into the wall, shocked by the panic. What the hell is going on? Terrorist attack? Does Japan even have those? I'm calm, but their panic begins to seep into me. They're all panicking so much. So, so much.

"Alana!" I yell with the fear cracking my voice.

My heart feels as if it's about to jump out of my throat. Everyone is screaming, yelling, panicking! I look around as crowds of populace block my vision from everything. My head turns wildly, but I only see people. There are only people, a mass of mad people! Where's Alana? I can't see her, where is she?

"Alana!" I scream, begging she hears me.  
>There is nothing, only people, only screaming! What's going on? What was that!<p>

"Alana!" My voice breaks again with fright, all I can hear is screaming and another boom!

"Alana!, Alana!." I shake in a breath before shrieking out, "ALANA!"

**Get away.**

That single thought commands my body and I enter the panicked crowds of people. They're all yelling, they're all screaming trying to get away. Their fear creates and amplifies my own. Some people try to grab me, but I elbow them away. I'm frightened yet not. Part of me is infected with the swarming chaos , but something inside me is also detached in the situation. I want to cry, yet I want to go and see what happened.

"JUST GO HOME!"

I can't find who said, but I know it's an older man. It's a dad, you can tell by the tone. My dad would tell me to go home—if he was here.

"Out of my way." I order and begin to shove others from my path.

Most are too scared to react and others just ignore me. Somehow, I manage to break free from the mass panic and enter an abandoned alleyway. Can't go home, the bus way will be crowded and it will take too long. I'll go to school. It's the only place as familiar to me as the house. I want to _feel_ safe, and the only thing I can think of that's remotely safe is the school.

Looking around for the first time, I know the street I'm on. It's only a few blocks from the school; it is a few streets behind this one. I go back into the crowd and manage to cross the street. I scramble into the empty alleyway and run until I hit the metal fence. No time to worry about a little pain. I begin to scamper up, and then jump down upon reaching the top.

I grunt and then keep moving. On this street there are less people and much less panic, but nevertheless, it's hard to cross the street. I get across and repeat the same process. I'm moving so fast, in less than five minuets I see the iconic sight. Camel, tall, clock in the middle—the school. I can recognize the place with just a glance. I'm close to it.

The next wall is stone because I've entered the suburban area, but the top is short enough for me to reach. From there I use the side lift myself up.

"Shit." I exclaim as I begin to fall the wrong way.

At the top of the wall my body turns the wrong way and my face scrapes against the wall. My body falls to the ground. "Ah!"

My back hits the ground and every breath is knocked out of me. I writhe in pain and lay on the ground. The fall was a good six feet, no five because I was partially down when I fell. I whimper, "Ow," a few times before attempting to move.

"Ow!" I cry and shut my eyes.

My back hurts!

With a deep breath, I stay on the ground a few second. 'Don't focus on the pain' I tell myself. I repeat the order a few times until it works, and my body pretends like the hurt isn't there. I get up and walk towards the school. I can see it clearly now, so big and proper like a noble man's castle. The camel color walls and the big clock that sits in the middle of the first building demands the first glance.

I stumble into the gates and pull out my phone. Dialing her number, I whine in fear as she doesn't answer. There are so many rings before I get her voice-mail. Her phones on, she just didn't answer it. I dial again, but there's no answer. This is bad; is she dead?

The phone drops to the ground. My hands dig into my hair, and I clamp my eyes shut. What the hell just happened? What was the blast? The smoke was spiraling from a building, did someone blow it up?

This could either be a terrorist attack or an alien attack. In both cases it's best to hide in the basement, but since this school doesn't have one, I'll settle for inside a classroom. The school seems to be deserted, so I slowly yank open the door and enter. I can hear footsteps and some people talking. It must only be empty on the outside, because I can hear the afternoon crowd wandering around the school. They will leave soon though, it's a rule. After a certain time you are not allowed on campus.

All the sounds are so calm in here, so peaceful. I don't think they have any clue about the blasts at the market. It must have only seemed big to me since I was there. The school probably doesn't even know about them. Shaking, I go to the wall closest to me. My back touches the stable surface, and I slide down. My butt touches the ground and I crisscross my legs.

There is no one with me, but there is also no one bothering me. I'm comfortable this way.

* * *

><p>I nod my head in confirmation. It's been a few hours since the explosions, and everything's gone back to normal. It turns out that the blasts were actually from people fighting. It was the two people we saw last night and some others mixed in. I ended up going back to the place where I left a perfectly good drink and decided to venture up on the roof for a change of perspective. And lo and behold, I met up with Alana. She told me what she saw happen, she told me she saw a fight between mobsters or something.<p>

None of this really makes sense. How can two fighters cause such a blast? Why are they fighting, I mean, it has to be something really important.

"Man," I start while rubbing my neck. "I can't believe I'm this calm."

It must be shock or something. I look back up to Alana; her black hair is flipping in a very stylish fashion. My voice sounds tired as I speak: "Let's just go back to America. Or Brittian."

"Ahhh…." Her head tilts to both sides slowly. "But El finds us every time we go to either one… And I haven't had this house for long… and…" She rubs her forehead. "We haven't been found yet. Let's wait till he finds us."

I turn my head and look at the view the roof gives me. Surprisingly, there isn't a lot of damage. A building looks a little cracked and some tables are overturned but that's it. The line of boutiques and shops are relatively undamaged. All of the chaos and panic must have dramatized the event.

I nod. "Okay then."

She doesn't respond immediately, and I take the chance to sit on the roof of the ledge and dangle my legs off the edge. It's rude to walk away from a person when you're talking to them, but the urge to sit conquers my manors. When placing myself on the cold stone, I lean backwards. My knee pits touch the edge and I begin to turn the lid of my drink. The first reason I came up here was to see if my drink was still hiding in the machine, and it was. When grabbing it, the idea occurred to me that high view would give a very accurate picture of the damage done.

"It's a good thing I came up here."

If I had come just a few minutes later, I would have missed her. It's a good thing that the boss of the Disciplinary Committee kicked me out of the school when he did. That guy is pretty polite despite what people say. Yes he is scary, but very well-mannered. We need more kids like him in today's society.

Alana brings me back to reality with a deep breath.

"Alana." I say her name as a way to halt my own thoughts.

I may be back to reality, but ideas and hormones continue to swirl in my head.

"Yeah?"

With a smile, I notice how perfectly composed she is, like nothing really affects her too much.

"Let's go ho—aw shit. I left my phone at the school."

She snorts. "Stupid."

We leave to get my phone, and then we leave to go home. We leave a lot.

* * *

><p>Her warm hands rub my back comfortably. They go up and then down and then up again. The warmth against my cold skin feels so good that I know my body is slowly drifting to sleep. The pattern soothes my troubled back and soothes my troubled mind. She presses harder but the pain isn't so bad, and I know it is good for my back.<p>

The movement stops for a second.  
>"Holy shit!"<p>

The movement starts up again.  
>"Double Holy shit."<p>

Her voice sounds surprised, so I respond, "Is there a bruise on my back?"

"Noope."

I grimace, man she sounds like the bearer of bad news. Her voice is cheery but in a foreboding sort of way. I don't want to know, but I have to ask. "What is it?"

"Those kids that were in the fight earlier," She pauses, "Were the same kids from the crosswalk… They were wearing your school's uniform."

My mind tries to recall the event, but all I can remember is that she saved a little kid this morning. It happened right before we split up; me to take shower, and she to get her nails done. My response is an intelligent sound. The message is too relaxing, it brings only simple thoughts. She comments about their age, and makes me a little curious.

"What did they look like?" I ask with my eyes shut.

She begins to recall them and then asks for specifics. "The boys or all of them?"

"Uh, who all was there?"

"Well, wait, at the cross walk or at the fight?"

"Fight." I choose.

"Well, the three guys that were fighting, that were at the crosswalk too, were... well one had, one had. One was really tall! With black hair, and brown eyes—he had a really nice smile."

I snicker, "Asian, tall, nice smile. Got it."

"And then the other one was, he was taller than me too. He had really pretty green eyes and grey hair, and he was glaring at me. I don't know what his problem was."

I interrupt, "At the fight?"

"Well, at the cross walk."

"I only want to know about the fight."

Her voice sounds a lot like Leonardo DiCaprio's impression of Howard Hughes, deep and businessman-like, as she says, "Well he could have been glaring at the fight too. I couldn't see facial expression that well. Only have 20/20; not 20/10; not 10/20, not even 10-10-2-20."

"(Laugh) Okay...Um, so could be more detailed about them please? Such as height, age, weight, and hair color."

My eyes peer open, and I see the floor. I'm on the ground and Alana is sitting on top of me, rubbing my back. She begins to go off in tangents about the people, but I don't really get what she is saying. All I can make out is that they have a Namimori uniform, one is cute, and one looks like a girl.

"Honestly, I really don't understand what you're saying. I'm quite confused."

Her voice sounds a bit annoyed and amused. "One was a really tall Asian, one was a really angry foreigner with pretty green eyes, and the other one was my height with spiky brown hair. And everything else was girly."

I giggle. "Is he one of those bishie or something? You know, where the guy is really feminine and girls scream over him?"

"Well... you know, it's not that he's feminine—he just looks like a pansy."

I comment, and laugh, utterly amused. "That's terrible."

My body is shaking with laughter at this point, and it doubles as Alana says that she doesn't coin herself to be nice. I settle down and say, "Just tell me how good looking they are, objectively speaking, on a scale of one to ten."

"The tall one was a really cute kid, the green-eyes one would be really cute if he stopped scowling and smiled here and there." She pauses for a moment. "I imagine the other one was a really cute kid, but like it said, he looks like a pansy so I'm not about to find him attractive."

I take what Alana says and begin to mull it over. Instead of just listening, I really think hard about what Alana says but I simply can't imagine any of them. My mind is blank like a brand new white-board. Uh, this all sounds like unneeded stress. Why does it matter who they are anyways?

I ask, "Are you going to find them or something?"

"Eh," She says in a high tone. "I'm considering it."

Wait; what if they're…No it'd be too convenient. But she said they were wearing Namimori uniforms like mine, so they probably are in the same school. Still, there's no way. It couldn't be.

I try to stand, but am halted by the fact Alana is sitting on my butt.

"I need to get up." I tell her urgently.

She gets up and I begin to crawl toward the couch. It is a few yards from where we are at, but I see my blue phone lying on the couch, charging. Next to it is my iTouch. I brought it out so we could listen to music. I've use that thing for everything: music, games, sky, and even taking pictures. For instance—I once took a picture of my whole class. I stood in the back and snapped the picture, but the whole class was in it too. My teacher had accidentally busted his nose open, and part of the excitement was how my classmates reacted to the situation.

Feeling the cold metal press against my palm is pleasant, but everything is overridden by my curiosity. I touch the picture Icon. It goes to the camera. I touch the corner where it shows my latest pictures. Then, with a double tap it goes to my film. There are tiny little squares filling up the screen, and when I see the crowd of teenagers I click on it. The iTouch's screen is filled with a single picture.

Everyone was wearing the same uniform. Everyone was leaning toward the teacher. Everyone was out of their seats. Everyone was in plain sight.

My eyes focus in on a few particular students.

Soft, messy brown hair is the first noticeable thing. His expression is lined with worries and his brown eyes reflect that too much anxiety. He is short, much shorter than the two next him. He was much shorter than the green-eyed classmate who stood on his right. He was much shorter than the tall Asian kid who was on his left. The tall Asian kid was looking at me, looking at me and smiling.

I comment, "He does have a nice smile."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Counterpart story:<strong>_

Assholes & Idiots»by DEECAPSLOCKISON

My life is full of them. OC story.


	4. October 15th

**Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the main character**

* * *

><p><em>October 15th<em>

One day has passed since the arcane Mafioso fight in Namimori square and the public has been told that the blast from yesterday was due to unthreatening causes. On the news, an anchor told us how it was all part of a movie. _A mistake, no need for alarm, the situation has been thoroughly handled, no one was harmed, everything's fine_: another reassuring lie from the adult world; everyone stand and applaud at the utter bullshit the media says. When I heard the story, I thought that whoever created it was an idiot. But once I found out that the majority of the population believed this story, I thought people in general were idiots. This opinion has not changed.

"Mia."

The tone demands my attention, and I snap out of my thoughts. Alana's face is a few feet from mine and we are lying on her bed together. I must have been lost in the realms of my mind, oops.

"Yeah?" I respond as if I've been paying attention to her the whole time. We both know this isn't true.

Alana's stare has a physical force behind it, but not an intimidating one. "What did I just say?" She's trying to trick me into admitting my lack of attention.

I answer without missing a beat. "Going to school tomorrow," My mouth repeats whatever my ears heard; I don't even waste a moment to think about it.

A roll of her eyes and a shake of her head leads to her mane of black hair (although she says it brown) flipping into a different style, something that happens quite often. "Whatever." The humored smile never falters; she isn't upset by my ADD. Her tone changes to that of an overly serious narrator, and I smile because I know I'll find whatever she says to be funny. "Be up. Tomorrow. On time."

With a short but contained laugh, I copy her tone and glower for effect. "Understood." I hesitate a moment before continuing in my normal voice. "But just in case, check on me every now and again.

Her black hair ruffles to the reassuring nod she gives me. I smile, probably because when Shorty (Alana's nickname from years back) smiles, I feel a natural inclination to smile too. It can' be helped though—she just has one of those smiles: infectious, easy, natural, and charming. Quite the lucky bitch in that aspect (I have a terrible smile): awkward, open, and unnatural.

"(Short laugh) it's weird to be going back to school after so long." Alana muses.

Since finding out that the students involved with the fight yesterday are the same students from my class, we spent a few hours trying to figure them out. Our efforts have come to very little. That's why we're _both_ going to school tomorrow. Alana's going to impersonate a student and attend class so she can stalk them too; _numbers are good when searching for information._ Anyways, that's the plan **if** they show up. Alana thinks they might not because of their injuries, but I think they will. After all, if they've been living a double life this long, injuries aren't going to stop them from coming to class. They are probably used to coming to school with a few wounds.

"The uniforms are in the closet, feel free to just take one whenever." I tell her with a reassuring swat of my hand.

A lively expression flashes on her face. Those white teeth shine in a way eyes never will. "Sweet."

I smile. "That's my name, don't wear it out."

She calls me lame and we laugh. I enjoy how our voices mingle together withh affection and humor. The moment's so easy and smooth; it's as if nothing bad can catch up with us.

* * *

><p>[VRRRRR…VRRRRR…]<p>

Driving to school is too relaxing. It always casts some kind of soporific mood upon me, forcing my eyes to shut and my consciousness to fade. I doze off slightly, but my sleep isn't deep enough to drown out everything. The familiar sounds of Henzo Street, a place I pass by when arriving to school, jolts me awake. 'Awanna?" I slur and lift my head. Looking around, I feel myself smile and giggle dazedly at her. She looks really good in the Namimori uniform.

In a casual tone, my dear dead delight of a cousin reminds me to call her Martinez in public. I take the comment in stride while stumbling out of the car and onto the pavement. My grace improves slightly after a few steps. Alana gives me a glance from her peripherals. I pretend not to notice.

We parked over a block away from school. It's a precaution that I suggested. You can never be too careful in a dangerous situation. _Our situation is dangerous_. The thought curves my lips even while they're pouring out words. On the surface I'm slightly chitchatting with Dee, but inside a nervous thrill is running through me as we pass into the gates. Going through the school doors with her makes this place feel foreign, like it's not really my school but just some place I'm visiting. Smiling, I enjoy this different mind-set.

"Room 2-A." I remind her as we go up the stairs. She uses her recently waxed eyebrows to give me a sign of acknowledgment. A deep breath gives me some reassurance. Everything's going to go right—awesome.

A familiar door marks the class room. A familiar bell marks five minutes until class starts. A familiar sniffle marks that I'm getting a runny nose. With a glance around, I notice only a few kids in the hallways, strange. Back in America, most kids can be found loitering in hallways taking up space. My eyes zoom back to Alana, and I wrinkle my forehead as a way to show her I'm confused. She notices and inquires just like any good friend. She's such a pal at times.

"Why aren't there a lot people out?" I question. Aw, my voice sounded so innocent, like a small child who is curious about the world.

Her face relaxes. "Most of them come to school early and hang out in their classrooms."

The answer pleases me. "Okay."

I open my classroom door and see a mass of other kids. She was right—like usual. Ever since I can remember, Alana always knew about everything. Now that I'm older it's obvious she isn't omniscient, but for some reason her head is full of random stuff. I grin; remembering how amazing I thought Alana was as a child. All I ever wanted to do was follow her around like a little puppy. It was unreal when they told me she was missing. It was even more unreal when I found her years later. Talk about chance...

No one knew what happened to her that day. I wasn't told about what really happened till two years after the fact, and that was by Ally, my eldest cousin and Alana's sister. Apparently, there was a brutal car wreck, a drunk driver hit Alana and her friends one night and most of them died. I only know the vague summary of what happened, but Ally did mention one specific detail about the accident. Though Alana was never found, her shoe was. 'She pulled a Cinderella', Ally said amusedly.

"_So then, it's like a mystery?" My eleven year old self asked. I'm not sure whether to be careful around this topic, but my curiosity escapes me anyways._

_Ally smiled and responded, "I think she just left, ran away from this crazy family."_

_I looked up to Ally indecisively for a moment, but then spoke my mind after being reassured by how calm she looked. "What would you do if you were running away? How would you stay hidden from the police?"_

_She ran a hand through her thick black hair and then slightly smirked. Her lips were small like Alana's. "Why? You thinking about running away too? I doubt your parents would let you."_

_I giggled at her words and then she laughed along. We kept talking about the family and are views on everyone in it, she told me a lot I didn't know about them. After a bit, Ally asked me to leave. And that was the last, and really only, time Alana was discussed, besides for the drunken tangents of course._

"They're not here." Alana murmured beside me, her eyes causally surveying the room.

Her words broke me out of my own thoughts and I looked at her warily. Then the meaning of her words sunk in. I made a hopeful smile. "Maybe they're running late?"

"Hmm… maybe." Her tone is slightly lighter than usual.

The light showers into our classroom and sets a mood equal to it. I merrily take my seat and smooth the back of my skirt as I do so. Alana slides down into the desk behind me and leans forward slightly, using the desk to support her upper body. She may be short, but the causal way she is postured would have turned me on if not for the fact I prefer guys and am her cousin. It's not particularly seductive, but the way her that pleated skirt reveals the form of a toned thigh has a certain appeal to it. _Sexuality_: the word forms on my lips but never makes an actual sound.

I open my mouth to say something, but gently shut my lips against each other as another bell rings. I turn around in my seat and eye a familiar looking teacher. He looks over the classroom, taking role and markings scribbles on a sheet. His eyes hesitate for a split second upon seeing me; I look away when that happens. I happen to excel in this subject and fail at waking up before the sun; this leads to me skipping first period more often than less.

The teacher begins to lecture or announce something to the class. Where are those boys? The teacher's drowning is background music to my desperate scanning of the room. Not a single one of them is in class today. What jerks. I came to first period today just to see them, and they have the nerve not show up? I realize how irrational my displeasure is, but the logic doesn't sway the emotion. I huff slightly and roll my eyes: boys.

[Ring! Ring! Ring!]

Everyone's head snaps to the direction right behind me. Holding in a laugh, I duplicate their motion. I hope she dares…

The sight which befalls me is that of Alana with her I-Phone in hand and closing it in on her face. It all begins to happen in slow motion. Brown eyes give away nothing, they are just brown eyes. However, the wrinkle of skin next to them promises mischievousness. The phone hovers a centimeter from her face. A thin pair of lips moves. Fluent Spanish comes out.

"¿Bueno, Batman?"

A slight pause; there is no sound from the phone. My own lips twitch in amusement. _Don't laugh._

Her hand slams down upon the wooden desk in a spectacular rage. The desk quivers to the force. "¿QUÉ? EL PRESIDENTE ESTÁ EN PROBLEMAS?"

Her eyes give away nothing, they are just brown eyes. However, with a simple squint the entire classroom is given a mighty glare. _Don't laugh._

With an all too serious whisper voice, we're given more. "Dame cinco minutos..."

The desk is flipped away from her and crashes on the floor like thunder. With magnificent speed, her body zooms to the door, slamming it open with a crash. _Don't you dare laugh._

"Su enseñanza es terrible."

I begin to laugh. Dear God, it all so funny! Throwing my head onto my own desk, I feel my shoulders shake violently. With my greatest effort, I muffle the crackling sound of my laughter. It's booming, a deep pitch sound, like that of an evil dower. "_Ohmygod_!" I cry in English. "_My ribs hurt_!"

With my convulsive laughter jerking around my body, I lose anymore dignity I had by falling to the ground. Dear God, what the hell was that about Batman and the President! And terrible teaching! What the hell? "I'm sorry!" I cry to my teacher in Japanese. He looks so angry. With deep and shaky breaths, I draw myself back up to the chair and offer a weak smile. I think I have tears in my eyes from laughter. My enjoyments is equal ro the terrible pain in my gut for lauging.

"Go to the Disciplinary room Fernandez."

My humor dies quickly. "What? What have I done? I wasn't a part of this."

"That's not how it appears."

What an asshole. "Sensei, I really wasn't a part of this."

His stern expression shows no sign of faltering. "Just go."

Is he serious? Just because I find this funny I'm in trouble? That's totally not fair, what's his problem? Don't freak Mia, just do as he says and deny any involvement. _Have control of yourself._

My reply is calmer than how I feel. "Yes sir."

With a little embarrassment and a lot of anger, I leave the class room quietly. When closing the wooden door, I feel tears well in my eyes. Every emotion in me is raging so furiously right now. I hate hormones! Blinking back bitter bemoans, I compose myself with a shaky breath.

Now, where's the Disciplinary room?

Crap! I don't know where it is, and I can't humiliate myself and go back in there to ask! Besides, I don't even get directions anyways; I have always been terrible with them! Oh God, this is terrible. I wanna go home… Maybe the Doctor will know? I've talked to him before, its professional, and he's a naturally embarrassing person, so I probably won't feel very shy. With a feeble smile, the idea feels like a small ray of hope on a cloudy day.

My feet immediately pace towards the Doctor's office as I wipe the tears from my eyes and the run from my nose. It's a place I've visited a few times before due to my weak immune system. However, I do try and stay away from the nurse here: he's a creeper. The man has never tried anything, but I wouldn't put it past him. Doctor Shamal has never been mean to me, so I can put up with him being a creeper. I just rather not have to. When getting to the office, I find the door already open and so is a bottle of wine. The smell of alcohol irritates me, but I ignore it and focus on what I came here for.

"Doctor Shamal," I call his name politely.

His body rises out of a curtain shielded bed. "Ah!" I squeak, scared by the unexpected movement. My frizzled emotions make me jumpy. I'm a woman on the edge.

"Hey~" He says giving me a grin and moving from the bed and into the desk besides it.

My eyes linger on a obttle of wine beside the bed but then drift back to his face. "Do you know where the Disciplinary office is?"

"Room 312." He answers with a cheeky smile. You sure you don't want a checkup?"

His eyes rake over my body and linger on chest without shame. This might flatter me normally, but not today.

"No thanks." I reply kindly, my tone utterly pathetic. "I'm having a bit of a bad day."

His eyes glint and look shiny for a moment. "See ya."

Something in me feels disappointed, I wanted him to inquire. My eyes drop from the disappointment, but I raise them and find that he's staring at me in a wary manor. As if I'm some kind of dangerous animal. I'm a little confused now…

"Bye." I say hopelessly and drift away.

I follow the room numbers until finding one that says 312. There's a little sign above the door which says 'Disciplinary room', I knock on the door three solid times. The gulp hurts going down my throat. "Enter." The voice is professional, like a no nonsense teacher. Using my left hand, I slide the door open and gaze upon the Disciplinary room. I step through the threshold and take in the scenery of Room 312. It is a small but well-furnished room: so simple, yet tasteful. I note the black leather couch center at the middle, and a cherry wood coffee table—nice.

"Uh, hello. I was sent here by me teacher."

Nerves are eating at me, but I never falter in my stare. _Look people in the eyes as you're talking to them, it shows respect._ Anyone sitting in a Godfather chair commands respect, even if he looks my age.

His reply is curt but polite. Just like the small movement of his head. His black hair sweeps around his forehead when he moves. "Fill out the form."

Not sure what he's talking about, I give a puzzled stare before moving my head. I carefully scan the area his head was once pointed at. As if playing I-spy, my eyes finally focus in on a little plastic basket attached to the wall. In it holds sheets of paper with black printing on them. Unsure, I hesitantly take a sheet of paper out. There's no pen; I probably have to turn the form in somewhere else.

"Where shall I turn it in at?"

His light eyes are focused on some kind of paper in front of him and a strong but slender looking hand whips across the paper with a pen. "Read the form and leave."

His voice is so domineering—wow. "Yes sir."

I head out the threshold and lightly close the door behind me. When I hear the door click, I let go of it. What's on my hand? I turn over my palm and inspect the substance that smudged against it when I shut the door. Light red and thin: blood. It makes sense. This is the disciplinary room after all.

My feelings have gone from hormonal rage to nirvana. He had the same effect on me the other day too, when I was shaken up from the explosions at the market. That guy is just so calm and peaceful, strict too. Being strict is good, it instills order and leaves little room for anarchy—little room for hormonal rages. Alana's right: all kids crave structure, whether they like to admit it or not.

The crisp form is cold against my skin and reminds me of its presence. With a simple pinch, the paper is folded hamburger style. I slide it into my skirt's pocket and then head back to the classroom. With titter tatter down the stairs, I arrive to my room which is just below the Disciplinary Committee. My knuckles scrape against the door twice before I let myself in. The door opens and all eyes turn to me—including the teacher's. Everything in me wants to glare with spite and malice, but the trouble I would get in isn't worth it. My head slightly nods to him, only after a moment of contemplation. The glare was a very tempting option.

I go to my seat quickly and hope I don't look awkward as I sit down. Just like any other teenager, I feel subconscious and insecure under the eyes of my supposed peers. Even being in a corner isn't enough to get me away from their stares. "Only thirty more minutes until this class ends..." I breathe, trying reassure myself. Every moment seems to last hours, and I fall into the realms of my mind as a way to distract myself.

_A fist slams against the face of a pretty boy scoundrel. The blood burst from his nose and droplets fling onto his forehead. The kid was being flung backwards from the force of the punch, and he clamped his eyes on reflex. His foe took no time to go in for another face shot and ends up hitting his eye. The pretty faced kid is now on the floor in pain, but not enough to give up or run. His pride has been insulted; his anger has been awoken._

"_YOU BASTRARD!"_

_His body may be slight, but with a show of talent, the pretty faced kid kicks at the legs of his opponent and knocks him off his balance. The foe, a righteously angry teenager, stumbles and tumbles to the ground by the pretty faced scoundrel. __Only able to get a few pathetic hits in, the handsome one of the two is quickly placed back into his losing role of the fight after Ryo head slams him with some intense force. Pretty face Hei is no match, and despite his feeble efforts, gets pounded worse that the idiot who spit on the Fonz—if such a thing ever happened…_

_A teacher quickly comes and intervenes, saving Hei from being further pounded upon. Ryo does not dare to hurt a teacher—he respects them to much. After hearing the boys loud and incoherent explanation of the fight (some shallow girl can't make up her mind), he sends them to the disciplinary office. __The boys trudge off to the said-room, giving each other fierce glares along the way. They enter immediately; there's no point in delaying their suspensions. Hei, who has been holding his bloody nose, touched the door on his way in and smeared a bit of his blood on it. _

What an intense fight… Though that is probably not what happened. However, a physical occurrence of some kind must have taken place for blood to have been on the door to the Disciplinary room. It makes sense for those involved in a fight to go to the disciplinary office, unless there's some other power they go to; a dean maybe?

I smile and keep replaying different scenarios and reasons for the fight in my head. Each one is slightly different from the last, and each one gets more into the reasons they were fighting. After thirty minutes, the intense fighting has turned into an intense romantic tragedy, where poor and noble Ryo dies upon impact when hitting the ground after being punched off by his so-called lover. The cruel and evil Hei gets the girl by telling a few clever lies and many sweet nothings. Then the girl eventually dies a painful death. She's an incompetent idiot though—she deserves it.

My goofy day-dreaming grin is plastered on soft, warm lips as the bell rings, the bell which dismisses us for first period. Yes! It's finally over. I was eventually going to get tired of day-dreaming and then have nothing to do; that would have been a real tragedy. Ha-ha, I'm so funny sometimes…

I sit in my desk for a few seconds, thinking about everything going on and such, and after a few seconds I remember the about the boys, the three boys in my class. I have to get info about them, and my homeroom teacher is the only one who has it.

In a hurry, I grab a pen from my backpack. It's a heavily inked one and writes well on paper. I stuff it into my skirt pocket where a paper is, and then wait for the teacher to leave the classroom. The moment he leaves, I'm up and peaking to see how far gone in the hallway he is. After my Sensei turns the first corner of the hallway, I boldly go up the podium. There are a lot of kids in the classroom but not one of the pays attention to me as I go through his thick vanilla folder. Rushed with excitement, I slide the paper and pen out and begin to look at the attendance sheet. The sheet is obviously for all the classes so he has to leave it here for the next teacher. My second period teacher always runs late, so there is no need to suspect he'll barge in the classroom and see me.

I flip though to today, the 15th of October. Three absences so far; I scribble down each and every name exactly as they are in the attendance sheet onto the paper. My eyes glance toward the corridor and find no sign of a faculty member or anyone staring at me yet. Thoroughly, I go through this priceless vanilla folder. With my pen, I mark in any and all the classes I wasn't here for. They only have this month but a small note at the top reminds the homeroom teacher to fill the report in at the faculty office. I write that on my note too.

My fingers flutter over the sheets of different papers in the folder but pause upon a peculiar note. It's smaller than all the others and a different color too, a hideous yellow. It's a bit difficult to read but the gist of it seems to be a description of someone. There a few phrases which ring a bell: dark hair, foreign, white tee—

"What are you doing?"

My heart stops. My stomach drops.

Looking up, I see one of the popular girls of my class in front of the podium. Kyoko-san isn't that pretty but has a sweet personality that everyone tends to adore. Her question has an innocent tone in it, and since the podium—thank God—is at a slant, she can't see what I'm doing. The girl is really just curious—not suspicious.

"Leaving a form for Sensei." The lie comes naturally and easily. No hesitation but not rushed either. I grab the form from my pocket and give an unhappy smile. "I have to give this to him but can't stick around till last period."

A sweet smile forms on her face. I note how short her hair is an attempt to imagine mine that short. I can't.

"Oh, are you going to watch the sumo wrestling too?"

What the fuck is this girl talking about? I smile; it's the best way out of a bad situation.

"Yeah. You know about that?" I say with an unsure look. My performance doesn't feel like the lie I know it is. Damn, I'm good.

She begins to say something, and while I half listen to her tell me about her brother Ryohei and her friends are participating in the tournament, I give an obvious glance around us to see if anyone's looking. I turn my gaze to her and make sure our eyes lock. I'm taller so she naturally has to look up while talking to me, and I use that to subtly pull the note off the desk. Her eyes never waver from mine as the paper crawls into my pocket.

The girl is oblivious to it all. How lucky for me and idiotic of her.

I grin happily upon feeling the light weight in my pocket. Everything just went awesomely. "Wow, what are your friend's names again?"

Three names come off her lips and three loud notes come from my backpack. Shit, I thought I put that on vibrate. In a rush, I get to my backpack and unzip it. I show my phone to Kyoko Sasagawa and cheese it. "Sorry. My phone."

A gentle smile comes from her once more, the girl smiles a lot. Her reply is short but cut off when a friend comes and takes her away. The girl is Hana-san from what I know, best friend of Kyoko-san and kind of a bitch. Kyoko-san gives me a wave goodbye, and I exchange the gesture with my own wave.

"Finally." I breathe and snatch the paper out of my pocket. Not the one with Alana's scandal on it, but the one with the notes. I write more on it sloppily. I write everything Kyoko just old me, word for word: the brother, the friends, and the tournament. After I finish writing down the last of her words, I stash the paper and pen back into my pocket before turning my focus onto the other matter at hand. Getting my phone, I see the text from Alana. I knew already it was from Alana since no one else has my number or a reason to call me. Her text is simple:

**Mimi. I hit Jackpot. Be in front of your school in less than ten minutes to pick you up. Hustle.**

With the grin of a lucky bastard, I run down the halls of my school and stampede down the stairs as fast as I can. FUCK YEAH! Man, we got all the information we need! I got the note, I got to help my attendance, I got help Alana, and I got to know those boys names. Well, I have them written down at least! "YES!" I yell loudly not caring at everyone who stares. My fists are pumped proudly, and I run as fast as possible to the outside gate. I'm out of the damned school in less than a minute! This day is so freaking awesome! Fuck yeah, man! Alana's super old car sits in front of the school, and I yank open it's door to see her face. I have so much to tell her, God I can't wait!

* * *

><p><strong><em>Counterpart story:<em>**

How I Became an Unofficial Pedo »by DEECAPSLOCKISON

Just call me Dee. My cousin and only pal has moved with me to Namimori recently. While she plays cool in school, I'm stuck with a crappy job. My job of being a forced assassin—with no health coverage. But that's the least of my issues.


	5. October 15th and 18th

**Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the main character**

* * *

><p><em>October 15<em>_th_

"Fine then, I'll go walk there. See ya whenever I get back—if I get back." I add the last part with a little resentment. I get on my red bike and before saying another snippy comment about her not giving me a lift. Alana blows it off, and the urge to punch her roars inside of me. The desire forces me to pause mentally, but my movements never lose their pace.

It's not fair to angry at her, especially considering all that she has done for me. She's been taking care of me, paying for my expenses, protecting me from things (mostly her shit). After all, the school and the land for this house weren't cheap according to one of Alana's acquaintances that came over a few days ago. From what I know he was an associate of Alana's, financial not business. Business associates don't come to our house.

The ride down the mountain's path seems to pass by rather fast, and I'm riding on the crowded streets of Namimori before I know it. Dee (Alana) said that the Yamamoto residence live at the sushi shop, which brings to mind the market (for fish) and the suburban community. Either way, someone at the market is bound to know where the sushi-man lives if he does business with them. I'll go to the market and ask around. With any luck, I'll be home before sunset and able to make Alana look like the jerk that she's acting like.

With a sharp turn, I pull around a corner and then cross into Nromai Street and keep going. The market shows itself as a gigantic lane full of mobile venders and small set-up shops. As the bike comes to a screeching halt, the vender closest to me looks up. His eyes are brown and open and attentive; he's ready for business just like everyone else.

Laying my feet on the ground, I smile at the vender whose covered in an old apron and seems to be selling fruit. "Do you know where the fish are sold?"

He nods with a less animated face. "Over on the corner of Soto, across from the stand with the bright red carp." His aged index finger points and I see the area immediately.

I thank him kindly, and then get off my bike to walk the rest of the way. Knowing my luck, I would crash into one stand while trying to avoid another. The shop I find is simple and wooden. Two people are already taking down the wooden stand and putting things away; they're probably out of fish. One of the venders noticed me with a slight glance, a young woman with a manish figure who is kneeling over a wooden crate of half melted ice.

"Um, excuse me," I start, getting their attention. "Where can I find, Yamamoto Takeshi's home?"

I see interest creep across the woman's face and she stands up so that we can have a proper conversation. The other one continues to work on the shop.

"Why are you looking for Yamamoto-san's son?"

They know him! "I'm his classmate." I explain. "He was sick today so I'm worried."

The woman relaxes from any suspicion, but them gives me a subtle check, up and down. "They live over at the shop on Sakana Street. Give Yamamoto-san my condolences."

I tilt my head, not sure which Yamamoto-san she is talking about. "Of course." I appreciate the directions." I turn on my bike, but stop for a second. "Where is Sakana Street?"

The woman gives me an amused look as if to say 'the youths these days' though I doubt she's old enough to think that with any justification. She tells me it is three blocks south from the middle school and I thank her once again.

I take off on my handy dandy bike, this time with a certainty of where I'm going. The idea of meeting Yamamoto Takeshi makes me a little nervous, but also thrilled. The rush of deceiving and thought of getting caught are almost too much to handle. Almost.

A voice snaps me back to reality. Yelling a Japanese warning, someone stops me from riding straight into the crosswalk and a crowd of innocent victims. The guy catches one of my bike handles, preventing the crash. I look up, seeing the surprised, wary, and judgmental faces of those I nearly ran into. Glancing over my shoulder, the cars in the street roll on as if nothing has happened.

Shit, I nearly got ran over and nearly ran over.

"I am _so_ fucking sorry." I blurt out, not even thinking about my word choice.

Desperate to apologize I look up to see none other than Yamamoto Takeshi. With two wooden kendo sticks in one of his hands and very light brown eyes (they are pretty) on his face, he looks concerned. Confused, I scrunch my face at the equipment. I've never seen any kendo sticks in real life, only in manga. Surprise then hits me, "Yamamoto Takeshi?"

His young face, which looks older than most middle schoolers, brightens in recognition. "You're from my class."

I nod dumbly, and look at his lean physique and short hair. It reminds me of my older brother besides for the height and overall Asianess. This guy obviously plays some kind of sport, probably baseball for his build and how easily he's handling those two kendo sticks in one hand. Or maybe Kendo?

"We are in the same class." I acknowledge, and then after a moment I ask, "You're friends with Sawada-san, right?"

His eyes never waver from me, but his smile suddenly reminds me of a smile that Alana sometimes gives me—gilded.

"Yeah, how do you know Tsuna?"

"I've only met him once." I lie and keep my face relaxed but open. "Do you know he lives?"

His aura isn't easy going anymore, but it isn't wary either. Yamamoto-san continues smiling. "What do you want with Tsuna?"

My plan was to say that I had school work to give him from sensei, but suddenly it's a really dumb idea. I could see through that lie in an instant. "I'm going to confess."

I halt in breathing. Did I really just say that? Mortification hits and my face feels like a furnace is burning under the skin. I said I was going to confess to a guy! I said that I liked a guy. To the guy's friend who I have to see every day!

His gets a taken back look but it quiets slightly and then turns into a light laugh. It isn't cruel but it is directed at me, the idiot who just claimed that she wants to confess! In shame, I cover my overly horrified face and peek out at him from between my fingers. Pity runs over his features before turning into an encouraging smile.

"Oh well, Tsuna probably isn't home." The he adds helpfully, "He might be back later."

I just have to go along with it. There's no choice. "Do you know what time?"

"Hmm, not really." He gives me a friendly laugh. "Sorry!"

I press my hand against the side of my face. "This is useless." I mutter and close my eyes. "I'm going to go now. Thanks for everything."

I don't sound grateful, but after biking for what now feels like forever, and for it to come to nothing? A personal travesty has taken place and my depressing hormones have beseeched me to give up in my quest at finding Tsunayoshi Sawada's address. Getting back on my bike, I begin to peddle away. From the distance I can hear Yamamoto Takeshi shouting 'Good luck' at me. I lift one hand and wave at him, but never looked back. This day sucks/

* * *

><p><em>October 18<em>_th_

In the kitchen, I'm downing my morning glass of milk and getting a white mustache in the process. After the glass is empty, I rinse it out with a little water then place it in the dishwasher. The sun gleams in through the windows and there's no point in trying to hide from the morning brightness. I look at what the window view presents me, just gazing for a moment.

Alana isn't here today, she's out working (killing). She said she'll be back before school is over, but that's not my particular worry. My worry is that one day she'll never come back. Dee has never been fond of privileging me with details. It's why I usually went behind her back and asked Eleazar, another assassin she was dating for a while, anything I wanted to know. I don't really think that I'm in danger or anything, but I know for a fact Alana is. After all, if you try to kill someone, it's only fair that they would try to kill you back.

It's hard not to worry that Alana might never come home, and that I'll be left all alone without so much as a phone call to be told what happened. But then that is the mafia life she chose. And I chose to be by her side till the end.

I snap out of my thoughts and then stop gazing out the window. My school uniform is already on, so I get shoes on and walk out the door.

When I get to Namimori middle, I'm careful that no one sees me as I hide by bike in a bush and then climb over the wall. Anyone can spot you when coming through the gates so they aren't really an option. This is usually works, but there have been some close calls.

Everything goes relatively normal after that. I get to class during the first break, sit through hours of lectures with a few ten minute breaks, and then school ends.

I grab my bag to depart, but stop when Sensei calls my name. My homeroom teacher (which is the last teacher of the day) is also the first period teacher—the one I currently dislike. There is a young man by his desk, a prefect by the sign on his arm and a pompadour on his head. A prefect is a disciplinary officer, they're kind of like hall monitors from what I know. However they are so responsible and school involved, sometimes it feel as if they run the school.

"Yes Sensei?" I say, now at his desk.

My teacher's eyes focus on me with a bit of distaste. The prefect next to him has his eyes trained on me in a relaxed manor. He may have a roguish face with a super chiseled jaw, but overall something about him appears nice, friendly even. I smile at the both, trying to be polite.

The prefect starts the conversation. "Fernandez-san, you received a discipline form a few days ago but it was never turned in. Is there an explanation for this?"

Form? Shit, I forgot. I was supposed to turn that thing in.

"I did turn it in."

My teacher now speaks, "I never received your form."

"I'm sorry, but you did Sensei. The day I got the form, I filled it out and left it on your podium since I had to leave for the rest of the day." I pause a moment before blurting out, "Kyoko-san saw me!"

The masculine prefect crumples his brow slightly. "The sister of Ryohei Sasagawa?"

I nod my head several times, and then look to where the girl is in class. The back of her short cut auburn hair bounces as she laughs with a friend, the popular yet distant Kurokawa Hana. "Kyoko-san!" I call toward her. She looks up innocently and I gesture for her to come over. With a smile to the prefect and Sensei (who looks irritated by the situation), Kyoko-san trots over without hesitation. With an innocent stare she looks up at me with those light brown eyes and then to the teacher. I give a reassuring smile; this is one hell of a gamble.

Her soft voice asks, "Yes?"

The prefect takes over and inquires about the form I had. My classmate completely backs up my story, unaware that it's a lie. Kyoko-san is such a nice girl. Of course the teacher looks a little vexed as he checks his vanilla folder for the note and finds nothing. That jerk deserves to look like fool, you reap what you sow. And oh, how you have sown Sensei.

"I turned it in." I tell the prefect desperately.

Our eyes lock for a moment, reading each other's souls, and I know better than to look away. He nods after a short contemplation. "You two can go."

I hurry off with Kyoko-san, and thank her for the help. She really got me of trouble there. With a bright smile, she reassures me that it's no problem. I'm about to leave but she stops me with a light touch on my arm. "Ferandez-san?"

"Yes?" I respond with an unsure grin and a suspicious look.

"It's been good to talk to you lately."

We've been talking lately? I nearly say exactly what I'm thinking, but stop myself. Instead I stumble out the reply, "Uh, yeah. Okay."

This is a bit of an awkward situation. The most popular girl in class is attempting to chat with me. How am I supposed to act? She gives me another innocent smile. The expression is full of kindness but lacks the intensity of deep person. She isn't really the type of girl I find interesting.

"You should come with me and Haru to the mall today…"

Uh… what?

I give her a grin, but it must look terrible considering the look that crosses her face. I don't want to be a bitch and say no, but I don't want to imposition her and say yes. Besides, I probably would just be the third person out and end up having to force some other girl to be nice to me. I'm about to decline, but Kyoko seems to sense this and begins to talk again. She tells me how her and this girl 'Haru' are going to watch over and play with these little kids at the mall. When I ask their ages, I find out all of them are younger than ten. I love kids, especially little kids.

"I think it'll be fun." She adds hopefully.

I bite my bottom lip, utterly tempted. I really do love children, and if things don't work out with my peers there will be the kids to play with/

"Okay," I finally say. "Thanks for inviting me."

Her smile brightens the whole room, and I feel a little more at ease. I walk out of school with her and we end up exchanging phone numbers after agreeing to meet at Namimori's mall. Maybe Alana will give me a ride? Kyoko-san seems happy and I feel a little happy too.

When I come home, Alana is on the couch, sprawled out, reading manga. She glances up to me and gives a lazy hello. After telling her of what happened and how I need a ride, we have a humorous little banter—she wins in the end but agrees to take me nonetheless. After laughing a bit, I go and doll myself up in some casual clothing and a sprite of perfume. Beautiful, I decide while looking the mirror at the faint pink in my cheeks and soft looking skin.

"Alana I'm ready!" I call while stepping down the spiral stairs.

She looks up from the couch, her face slack with tiredness. "It takes you over an hour to get ready?"

"Nope." I reply popping the p. "But I enjoy taking over an hour to get ready."

She just gives me one of her amused looks before grabbing her jingly keys. We trudge off out the door and to her car while talking about the three boys. She says this and I say that and life just happens the way it happens. Either way, somewhere in our conversation we stop so I can call Kyoko-san.

"Sasagawa residence."

It's a male voice, not an adult's, but it's getting there.

"Um, hello. I'm looking for Kyoko-san." I pause a moment, thinking. "Is this Ryohei Sasagawa-san?"

Ryohei is her brother and he is a part of the false sumo tournament thing. Alana looks over the seat at me and we lock eyes. I put the phone on speaker and raise my eyebrows high. This is turning out to be a pretty interesting day.

"Yeah, who are you, Kyoko's friend?"

Part of really wants to say '_No, just some girl she wants to fuck_,' but I know better. That is way inappropriate to say to a stranger, much less one I might have to meet again.

I lie. "I am."

"Kyoko-san, your friend's called!" He shouts without covering up the speaker.

"Oni-chan," comes a reprimanding voice. "Don't shout into the phone."

"Hey Ryohei-san!" I call into the phone, trying to get his attention. I smile, feeling a little devilish. "Shouldn't you be training for the sumo tournament?"

Quickly he starts to stutter, and before I get an answer there is the sound of a phone slammed. The phone makes that buzzing sound of being disconnected.

"What the fuck?" I start bursting with laughter. "Well, I guess we know he's lying." I muse.

Alana is shaking her head and chuckling. "Oh my god," she breathes while laughing. "You're a fucking idiot."

Why am I an idiot? I laugh some more and just shake my head. If anything I can say Kyoko-san told me about the tournament. It's somewhat true anyways. After a moment my phone rings again. I put it on speaker before receiving the call. "Hey," I say, pretty sure it's Kyoko-san who called.

A light, high voice responds. "Sorry Fernandez-san, Oni-chan has never been good with phones."

In the background I hear her brother say he's going to go train. Alana makes an unclear mumble, most likely a witty comment, and I bite my bottom lip while smiling.

"It's no problem. I was wondering where we should meet at Namimori mall. "

Thinking of which, why hasn't she already left?

She tells invites me to pick up the kids with her and I look at Alana. She shrugs, "It's whatever man. Just tell me where I'm driving yo."

"Where at?" I ask.

She tells me her address and Alana seems to have a general idea of where it is. After a few specific landmarks and roads, we arrive at her house. She's in the front, right outside of a house that has two stories in the front, and then leads to one in the back. It's pretty cool that her house is situated on a hill. It's a little woodsy in the back as well.

Kyoko-san steps out on the front porch and instantly smiles as she sees me. I grab the plastic handle but pause. Why does she insist on being friends with me? I blink, and bat away the thoughts before pulling the plastic handle and getting out of the car. I give Kyoko-san a chirpy greeting before shutting the car door. Kyoko tilts her body to look behind mine curiously.

"Is that you're sister?" She inquires, looking back up to me.

I shake my head, and smile again for the hundredth time today. It drops however, when Alana gets out of the car. My eyes open wide, and I give Alana a confuse stare. Why the hell is she getting out of the car?

"Hey, I'm Desma Martinez, Margaret's cousin." She calls while maneuvering around the car and in front of Kyoko-san. The two of them have their own little dialogue, and I stare at them, feeling somewhat dumbfounded. I knew it wasn't showing on my face because I could feel a blank expression, but Kyoko-san still seems to notice somehow. She gives me this reassuring smirk while peeking at me from the corner of her eyes. I'm not sure if the gesture is welcomed or not.

"Well, if it isn't a bother."

"Not at all, hop in."

Snapping out of my funk, I open the car door for Kyoko-san and wait for her to sit down before closing it and walking around the car to the other side. I shoot Alana a 'What the fuck?' expression, but she just smiles as if everything is fine. She doesn't understand how this situation is suddenly awkward for me. I get in into the car and shut the door quietly before putting my seat belt on. I look ahead while Kyoko-san gives my cousin directions to the other girl's house and regret accepting her offer. Now that Alana is driving us all to the mall, I can't walk and play with the kids if/when my poor social skills kick in. I'm forced to be the third wheel and painfully endure it now too.

Maybe we'll get in a car wreck and postpone the outing?

As we drive to this house which is fairly far from Kyoko-san's home, I say nothing and but my lack of speech is screaming in my ear, telling me how much of a failure this day is going to be.

"Ah, there's Haru-Chan's house!" Kyoko pointed out happily.

Peering out Kyoko-san's window, there is a little mundane house surrounded by the same plain, and rather cheap looking, walls all the other houses are guarded by. However, there is a petite brunette sitting on the wall with three little kids fussing below her. She's well dressed with a pair of cutesy pants and a light colored shirt. The kids are adorable and one of them is wearing a little cow print costume—too cute.

"Kyoko-Chan!" The girl squealed before running strait up to the car, a car which hasn't fully stopped yet.

I look at both of the girls I will be spending the next few hours of my life with. Both have perky attitudes, both dress in a cutesy fashion. And both are normal middle schoolers. This night is doomed to be a disaster. I look back to the kids, round faced and innocent. Well, maybe not…

* * *

><p>"Lambo~!" I sing while looking for the small child. "Futa, I-pin!"<p>

Those fucking idiots, how do you lose kids in the mall? I leave for five minutes to get a drink and those irresponsible girls lose them! What if they get kidnapped by a child molester! What if they run into the streets at night? What if they get separated?

"Futta! Ipin! Lambo!" I look down another empty street and find nothing. I keep searching, scouring any street or alley way I find. Alana's out looking for them too, courtesy of my call. The idiots who lost them, Kyoko-san and her dumb friend, are going to the Children's house and checking if they are home. Kyoko-san promised to call me with any news, but how are you supposed to trust someone with the incompetency of losing defenseless children?

I shout again. "KIDS!"

There is no response, only an eerie silence. The night's darkness is only propelled by street lights but even then there seems to be a black abyss down every street. I go on despite the growing fear; anything could happen to those kids at night.

The phone in my pocket vibrates and I have it on and by my ear before the second buzz even takes place.

"Did you find them?" I ask Alana.

"No, but Tsuna-kun's gone looking for them."

I stop running around. Kyoko-san's friend's voice is in my ear and it seems completely worry free, as if this solves it all!

I swallow a gulp and breathe before talking. "Well call me when he finds them."

After a light pause she agrees to and then hands up. She must have heard the anger warm in my voice too. I don't care what she thinks, both she and Kyoko-san fucked up. They lost the kids and anything could happen to them. I should have known how unreliable they would be, I should have been there instead.

"Lambo, Futa, I-pin!" I call again and keep heading down another street.

Every time I go down another street, goosebumps crawl all over my body, tingling, tickling, and teasing. I rub them off my arms and keep creeping on.

The cell buzzes. I grab my phone, press on, and listen.

"Hey, where are you?" It's Alana's voice.

I look around, and spot a street sign. "Umm, near Kuroko Street." I answer then frown at the question. "Why?"

"I'm going to meet up with you so we can search together."

"No!" I protest. You can't! We can cover more by you searching one area and me the other." I already hear her bike starting up again. "You keep looking on the south side; I'm almost finished with the neighborhoods." Only twenty more to go…

"I'm already done with the South side." She tells me. "And they weren't at the schools, so they must be in one of the neighborhoods. Most likely theirs—you have checked theirs right?

"Kyoko-san and the other girl did. Oh, and now the Tsuna/Sawada character is looking for them as well."

I choose to go down the south street; it looks like it is connected to a brighter road.

Her voice surprises me with its seriousness. "Get out of sight. Now."

"Why?" Retreating quickly to the darker side of the road, I stand still and wait for her explanation. Her serious tone just made being alone at night a whole lot creepier.

"Cause if I'm thinking right, there's a baby with him, and if that baby sees you, we're in trouble"

Turning my head both ways, I check to see no one is close to me. "Why, that baby doesn't know me. I'm just another class mate. Wait, a baby? Oh my god. A baby." I really don't understand how a baby can give me trouble unless it's possessed by a demon. I don't want to meet a demon baby! But the kids!

The phone seems to be extra loud considering how quiet everything else is.

"Mia," she starts. "Don't be dickfer. Trust me and hide."

My heart gets too excited, but unlike a few nights ago it's from primal fear. I think back to the kids smiling, and playing at the mall. "What about the kids?"

"We'll presume the search when I get there… I mean resume"

I keep looking around, and at the end of a bright street see growing shadows.

"Alana," I whisper into the phone. "Someone's coming."

I'm two houses away from the 'T' street, but close enough to view the distant dancing shadows. As the black forms contrast against the dull yellow light of the street lamps, I close my eyes for a moment to stop looking at them.

"Dude, hide. I'll be there in two."

[Click]

Slowly, carefully, and silently, I slip the phone down my body and deep into my pocket. The wall's stone is cold and rough against my back despite the sweater I'm wearing, but I stay pressed into it, and the shadows the stay pressed on me. Fearing I'll make a sound, or by some chance my breathing will give me away, I let my cold hand press against my mouth, covering it. Trapping any gasps, breathes, or squeaks. I shut my eyes for a few more moments and chill out, counting my breaths.

Along with the shadows, some noise begins to sprout from the street's corner. The night is silent enough for me to hear the voices, but my distance is far enough that I can't fully concentrate on them; most of sounds are high toned like children—maybe the kids? As they get closer, I notice Lambo's complaining vocals and want to weep in relief. They're all right—they're safe.

I stay where I am and simply watch as they pass. Lambo-san's afro bounces around as he moves from place to place, and Futa-san holds both the younger kids hand like a good big brother. They're all right, heading south. Alana and I can catch up to them once—

"WHAA! HELP!"

Their voices scream and I'm rushing to their aid. I reach the threshold of the street, entering the light. I catch a vision of a tall back figure before being pulled back into dark road and having my mouth suppressed by a hand. Instinctively, my arms go back to push away from the figure. I feel a face touch the back of my hand as it swings back, and turn my body roughly. Their grip loosens and I begin to pull away, but before I can more, the hand around the back of my shirt slams me against the wall, and I purposely bounce back into the person only to see it is Alana. She stops my movement, and this time I still.

"The kids!" I shout in a whisper. The sound muffles against her hand. She smacks her lips with a finger, indicating to be silent. My eyes widen, and reluctantly, I make myself a statue with a pleading expression carved upon its face.

Her thin mouth forms the words 'Varia' but never utters them. She hesitantly lets go of my mouth.

'What about the Kids?' I mouth while violently pointing to the edge of the wall.

She takes out her phone and uses it to reflect the images around the corner. I wave my hands like window wipers, indicating "No Way!". Who wouldn't notice a random phone peering out from a corner?

I look at her glare and then the next thing I know I look at an incoming wall.

The bricks scratches along my face as my body gets the wind knocked out of it and I let out a quiet 'uff~" before falling to the ground. Alert, but unsure, I immediately look up and see Alana a few feet away, hitting some guy—who definitely was not there ten seconds ago—in the face with a tire iron. I snap into a standing position before the blood begins to squirt from his face. The guy's sword is still in his grasp and while he thrust at Alana, she uses the crow bar to redirect the movement and gets another hit, this time against his temple with enough force to kill him. For a second a light feeling runs down my stomach—nerves—and then I turn away my glance.

I look down, up, right, and left—there's only Alana, me, and the body on this cold and blood paved street. Her tire iron has blood running down its end, dripping onto the floor and an eye ball on its end like a Shish kabob. That squeamish feeling runs through my lower stomach again but for some reason it doesn't play out externally. "We need to get out of here." I tell her, keeping my voice down. I look at the man's face, it has blood cascading down the side, pooling on the ground, and the warmth of safety envelopes me. How much safer can you be then with a person who is willing to kill to protect you?

Alana says otherwise about leaving, and I don't argue—there is no point in adding trouble to a troublesome situation—she is the one protecting me. I stay quiet, I stay next to Alana, and only meters away from the Varia. Only meter away from the world's best assassins.

I go back against the wall, and listen into the voices. "Xanxus."

No one was saying anything for one long single moment and then a cry and a dark mumble erupt from the street, not by the same person of course. There were so many voices, I can only put a name to one, the man with long hair and a sharp sword from a few days back on the roof top, but mostly I just here a mixture of phrases from different people:

"Are you planning to kill us too?"

"This is bad! Run!"

"Die."

"**Hold it Xanxus**."

The voice boomed like an echo but it never repeats itself. A silence takes over, acknowledging the mature, manly voice which just arrived. My hair rises with violent shivers. Someone lets out a squeak, and other a comments. From what I hear, the voice belongs someone's dad. "Xanxus. Is one of your minions planning on lifting up a sword against me, the external advisor?"

The question sings of a power play, reminding some loose cannon who holds the power.

There is another murmur of arguing, but they drown each other out. It's only when the older voice, the one belonging to the external advisor, talks that everyone else quiets down. "I wasn't running. I was just waiting for an answer from the ninth." He gives a slight pause and then goes on. "I was questioning the way you guys have been doing your stuff lately, along with the Ninth boss's approval. An order that I assume is his reply, has just arrived."

Almost subconsciously, I repeat the strange phrase in a low murmur. "An order that I assume is his reply?"

"I don't get what's going on~!" A high male voice interrupts. I feel a bit of sympathy run through me. "Besides, why Dad..?" His voice is so frantic, so afraid, like that of a child who has been caught in a hurricane and doesn't understand what is going on.

Another voice, one that I think hasn't been used yet, says "External advisor." The voice goes on; more in a teacher like tone, explaining but the words are quiet enough that I don't quite catch them. Alana begins talking to me, instructing me to run on her signal. I try listening to her and the secret conversation around the corner at the same time, but the most I can make out is the tones and the phrases "Vongola", "Dying will flame", and "outside advisor". To Alana, I nod my head which is swimming with all the unrealistic events happening, and I'm pretty sure it plays out on my face.

I begin to catch up with the conversation when the frantic and scared voice distresses that something is written in Italian, and he can't read it.

The man who speaks with utter control and authority translates the writing. "Until now, I thought that the one worthy to become the heir was Iemitsu's son, Sawada Tsunayoshi, and so I compelled to that. However, lately, because I am nearing the end of my life, my intuition became sharp and I've decided to select a hair that's even more worthy. My son, Xanxus, is the one more worthy to become the true tenth."

The man booms his articulated sentences so that everyone will hear him. It's obviously a message that applies to everyone here. Except eavesdroppers, but then what can you do about those?

_Well, you could kill them_

This thought occurred to me before; it's why I want to leave. However, leaving my cousin behind is not an option.

"WHAT! HE'S THE NINTH'S SON!" Man, this boy is having a really shitty day.

The man continues, "But, there will be people who aren't satisfied with the change. Currently, Iemitsu refused the offer to give Zanzus the rings. However, I don't intend to have a useless battle between my own family members." His voice gets deeper and heavier. "So let us start the traditional Vongola battle to satisfy everyone." His quoting seems to stop for a moment, and then he rips out a declaration that was loud enough to wake the neighbors. "**Those who** **wield the same type of ring will fight in a one-on-one battle**."

* * *

><p><strong>Counterpart story:<strong>

Idiots and Assholes »by DEECAPSLOCKISON  
>Just call me Dee. My cousin and only pal has moved with me to Namimori recently. While she plays cool in school, I'm stuck with a crappy job. My job of being a forced assassin—with no health coverage. But that's the least of my issues.<p> 


	6. October 18th and 19th

Namimori is an average town. The people are not extreme. The city is completely mainstream. The location might as well be off the map. These are the lies Alana told me. _'The most you have to worry about is traffic—so don't get run over_,' she had said. Yet here we are, on a chilly night, in an empty street, hiding from the world's most dangerous mafia group and their most dangerous assassins. Getting hit by a car is the least of my worries.

"In the scramble for the rings, we will be the judges. We are the Cervello…"

Turning around slowly, Alana signals for us to leave with a combination of hand signs and lip movements. I nod my head in confirmation. Those kids (Lambo, I-pin, and Fuuta) are safe for now, so there is no reason for me to stay and risk my neck. Slowly and silently, we creep away from our hiding spot and go farther down the street. Keeping to the shadows of walls, Alana and I escape without interference or distraction. The voices of the Mafioso disappear in the distance, and we pick up our pace to a frantic walk.

"My bike is around the corner." Alana tells me in a low voice. Her brown eyes glance over the corner we are about to round and then back to me. That tan skin of hers is paler tonight; is she afraid? I turn the corner, my pace now casual, and find her sleek ride sitting in the shadows ready for any passerby to steal it.

"I'll be dropping you off at Namimori shrine; there's some business I gotta do." Alana says as we slide into our seats. The key jingles as she slips it into the ignition.

_But isn't it bring your cousin to work day?_ I shake my head in mock disappointment.

"Okay," I say with a grin, amused by my silly thoughts. I'm definitely not the witty one between the two of us.

The engine rumbles, and we zoom off to Namimori shrine with the wind blowing against us. Even with my sweater on the sharp wind is too harsh against my skin, spreading goosebumps with its breath. I let out a violent shiver as the bike comes to a stop and let my body temperature settle before getting off. Alana chuckles and I shoot a glare at her. Thanks for enjoying my suffering—jerk.

"Look for the two giant, red maples behind the shine. The path starts between those two trees and ends in the yard. It's a path you can't get lost on, like the one at Grandma's. Do you need a light?"

_Naw, I developed night vision recently._

A grin slides onto my face with a giggle. "Yeah," I say with a smothered giggle. "I need a light."

My cousin just shakes her head, and then reaches around to a black compartment box that sticks to the back of her motorcycle. She unclasps the box and shoves a hand inside, after a few moments of shuffling her hand retreats, grasping a small metal flashlight with it.

"Cool," I observe with an outstretched hand. She drops the flashlight into my extended hand before wishing me luck. She runs a hand through her bangs, sweeping the dark hair away from her face.

Now might be the time to mention my lack of knowledge on maple trees or blindness to even the most obvious of things. But I don't want to look like an idiot.

"_See ya' later alligator_," I chirp in English.

With a skeptical glance my way, Alana takes off after a quick 'bye'.

The stairs up to Namimori shrine are steep, plentiful, and unclear at night. With a 'click' the light shines upon my path and fixes the 'unclear at night' problem of the stairs. But since the steep and plentiful part probably won't change soon, I climb up the concrete steps. All forty-three of them.

I ignore the big and traditional Shrine of Namimori on top, because at night its atmosphere is too creepy for me; the red exterior walls and grayish roofs looks too much like a haunted palace where young pretty virgins (like me) are sent to be eaten by vicious demons. Quickly, I walk around the building and go straight toward the woods behind it.

'Behind the shrine', 'two big trees', 'path'. Where are you, where are you?

At first glance there is nothing but woods and overgrown grass. It is the same sight with the second and third glance too. The grass rustles under me as I take a few steps backwards and look again at the shrubbery around me. Every tree looks the same as the last one, and none seem to have an opening for the path. Sweeping the light over the woods, the spotlight settles on the trees in front of me. So long as I travel directly from behind the shrine, then does it really matter if I take the path? Won't I end up near the same place?

_(Hopefully, or you're screwed)_

Forgoing my directions, I start walking into the trees and maneuver around them in an upward direction. A few dead leaves crunch under my shoes and several fallen branches scrape against my jeans, but most of the woods are just patches of trees and spiders. The only troubling part is the slant of the landscape, walking up a giant hill is never easy on legs as delicate as mine.

When I get near to our hidden home, I enter the clearing closer to the drive-way than the backyard. Good enough. Flicking the light toward the house, nothing gives away who lives here. The blinds are shut, the lights are off, the grass is overgrown, and only my red bicycle leans against the front of the house. Marching up to the front porch and opening the front door, a burst of cold and conditioned air greets me. There is no place like home. 

There's no point in turning the lights on this late, so I leave the house dark and use the flashlight to get into my bedroom. Instead of going to bed —a fine idea on all accounts— I reach for my laptop and Google 'Vongola'. The word was repeated so much tonight, and by so many people: Vongola assassins, Vongola boss, Vongola guardians, Vongola external advisor. For each letter I type, a different voice repeats the word to me: the young boy who protested the fight, the older man who claimed the boy must fight, the child who explained things, and Alana as she wrapped her lips around the name in excitement (_Vongola…_). After pressing enter, I begin to laugh. The only thing that comes up is clams.  
>- -<p>

_October 19_

I show up on time for school today, but instantly wish I hadn't the moment Kyoko-san approaches my desk. She smiles, asks me how I am, and rejoices that the kids are safe. I glare, tell her I'm okay, and rejoice in the fact that the kids aren't dead—or worse. Despite her efforts, there is no hiding how my scorn affects her. She gives me an innocent pout of worry and hurt, but it just makes me want to slap her for having the audacity to care about herself after losing the kids. Selfish Woman. After a cold goodbye, I turn around to stare at the door and refuse to acknowledge that she exists. Innocent or not, I can't forgive her folly so quickly. We are not friends.

One of the mysterious kids from last night, Sawada Tsunayoshi, comes through the door, and Kyoko-san rushes off to him like a bitch to a bone. The kid goes from surprised to guilty within seconds as he talks to Kyoko-san. His face looks troubled; the crease in his forehead and slump in his shoulders evokes my sympathy. Poor guy, stress must be eating at him. But none of this stops me from glaring at the back of Kyoko-san's head; she put the lives of three innocent kids in jeopardy yet she can find it in her to smile and talk to boys? How self-centered.

With a 'BAM', the door slams open causing a violent flinch among my classmates. Entering in a dramatic fashion, a white haired boy rushes up to Sawada-san and Kyoko-san. "Sawada!" he all but shouts; his voice is the one from the phone yesterday (Kyoko-san's brother). Isn't he part of this mafia conspiracy going on? The teens stand together in front of the room, leaving me to drown in curiosity. Are they talking about the upcoming fights? Does that twit Kyoko-san actually know what's going on?

The boys' expressions are written with guilty lies, while Kyoko-san's is etched with worry. No, she hasn't a clue about the mafia fight. The conversation ends with Kyoko-san walking to her desk as Sawada-san and Sasagawa-san go out the door together; I follow them. With a nonchalant attitude, I trail behind them down the halls of Namimori middle, but not close enough to hear their every word. Dammit, I need to take the chance of getting caught or be sure of hearing nothing useful to Alana. With a deep breath, I hasten my pace until the boys are only an arm's reach away.

"Ack! You already forgot?!" The brown haired boy (Sawada-san) cries, with his shoulders hunched in dismay.

The white-haired one yells something incoherent, and every single person in the hallways just looks away as if they're afraid to make eye contact. I chuckle a little, kids are so fucked up. Sawada-san must notice the students' reactions too because his cheeks turned bright red; the poor guy is embarrassed to be the center of rude thoughts. He must know that everyone is bad mouthing them behind their backs now.

In a quiet voice, Tsunayoshi Sawada says, "The fight's at school."

His friend laughs, and claims to have suddenly remembered that. I try to keep listening, but only find out the time and location of the fight before they go up to the roof together— a place I can't follow them to without being noticed. As the door shuts behind them, I take the small phone from my skirt pocket and text Alana the news.

**To Alana: Fight school 2day. Btwn guardians.**

After pressing send and putting the phone back in my pocket, I start to make my way back to class and ignore the mean comments other students are making: 'Ryohei Sasagawa is too loud and Tsunayoshi Sawada is no good'. Jerks, they probably don't know the first thing about them.

The day rolls by normally after that; besides for the white haired kid's—Ryohei—disruption before class started, school is the same as usual. At lunch Alana texts me that we should go out to eat. I agree. There is no bento in my bag, and I'm not fighting those ridiculous lines for bread (that shit gets too crazy for me). While everyone moves around the room for lunch, I go to the door way and pause to text and ask Alana where we are going to at. I press send and watch the little animation of a letter swoosh out of the blue screen.

"Hey."

The low and deep voice belongs to Gokudera Hayato, one of the mysterious four middle schoolers from last night, standing behind me. I stumble back a little, caught off guard by the sudden interaction. His figure hovers in the door way for a second, looking at me. We catch each other's glances for a moment, and I blush at how handsome he is. His eyes, an uncommon silver, glide away from me, disinterested.

"Hi." I say back. He catches it, but keeps walking away from me and towards the desk of Tsunayoshi Sawada. His hunched over posture doesn't subtract from the incredibly aggressive vibe that pulses out of him. There is a defiant 'I'll fuck up anyone in my way and leave my rings as indentions on your face' vibe about him and his clothes seem to taunt the dress code with an untucked shirt, unbuttoned jacket, no tie, and earrings. Talk about your school bad-boy. I look away from his back, butterflies fully fluttering, and for a second catch the eye of someone else.

The scrawny boy from across the room peers at me with intuitive eyes. Leaning over his desk and wearing the same Namimori uniform as everyone else, Sawada Tsunayoshi could have been anyone, but he isn't. He's the guy that just caught me watching Gokudera-san (his friend). After being caught starring at each other, we both look away and my face starts to burn with embarrassment. As I peak back over to him, I notice a pale pink on his cheeks too.

He knows!

Sawada Tsunayoshi, the boy whose friend, Yamamoto-san, _thinks_ I like, just caught me starring at his other friend, Gokudera-san, who I _may_ like. And he knows that I may like Gokudera-san! Might as well stamp 'Whore of Namimori' on my face and get it over with. Boys talk to each other, and pretty soon everyone is going to be talking about my little lies.

During the next several minutes, I keep looking over at the kid who caught me starring. He never looks my way, not even when I stare blatantly. His brown eyes are focused on his food and nothing else. Once or twice I take a chance to peak at his friend Gokudera Hayato and admire the way that fine silver hair brushes his cheeks. This goes on for at least ten minutes until Sawada Tsunayoshi is about to lift his head in my direction. I look away quickly and begin packing up my things.

"_Oh, shit."_ I mutter in English when I see that my phone has several unanswered texts from my cousin; I forgot about her.

I text her, grab my crap, leave the building, and run to the car outside the gate. She is good natured about my tardiness and makes jokes on our way to the noodle shop. While we slurp up warm udon noodles and broth, Dee starts the conversation by telling me she received my text.

"Oh yeah!" I exclaim remembering the subject. My eyes widen. "They're fighting at the school tonight, the sun guardians. They're fighting at…" I pause, trying to recall the information. "Twelve…I think…" Frowning, I add, "It may have been Eleven."

As I shove a bundle of noodles in my mouth, Alana asks for a final answer for the time of the battle. "Which is it? Eleven or twelve?" My shoulders go up and down. I'm not entirely sure which of the times it is. After I finish my bite, I tell her this, but she still wants a final answer.

My lips begin to form the word 'eleven' but stop. Who holds a fight as eleven? Reason points to midnight. "Twelve," I say, sounding as unsure as I feel.

"Fine. Twelve it is. But let's leave for the fight early; we might run into obstacles on the way."

I nod my head to her, eager to get take a break from the plaguing question. Is the fight really at twelve? After telling Alana that we should leave a little after eleven, I ask her to fully explain the whole guardian battling thing that us going on. There is too much craziness for me to decipher on my own.

"What do want explained?" She asks after taking another chomp of noodles.

"I want to know why, then how, and finally who. So far I only know the Varia is some kind of assassin squad for the Vongola. But aren't they fighting against the Vongola now?"

Her dark eyes scan the shop before she answers. "Yes, the Varia is a special assassin squad for the Vongola—they're the best of the best. But more specifically, they answer only to Vongola Nono, who is the current head of the family. Nono created the Varia, and they work only for him. So in a sense, as they are Vongola, they also aren't. You get what I mean?"

"Yeah," I say while nodding. "They're… _independent_, though still an assassin squad—for the Vongola."

"Yep. So if they don't like something going on, per se… someone's candidacy as Vongola Decimo/Tenth head of the Vongola, they can act out. And this is advantageous for them, because allied families can't get involved (it jeopardizes their alliance), so it turns out to be a family issue that has to be handled according to precedential protocol."

I nod. "But if they act out against the candidate then aren't they going against the boss? That's how the next head is chosen, right— by the current boss?"

"Being a candidate and being the actual boss are as different as heaven and hell Mimi."

"No," I say firmly, even impatiently. A twinge of guilt follows from cutting her off. "I mean, if they're trying to kill the candidate isn't that like going against the current boss, since he chose him and stuff."

Alana goes on to tell me that it's not only the boss that makes the decision but echelon's and external advisors too. Apparently, this external advisor wants his son, Sawada Tsunayoshi to be boss.

I laugh, loud and hard. These Mafioso are ridiculous. "This sounds exactly like royalty, only—wait. That doesn't make sense. First, who are the echelons and advisors?" I shake my head. "More importantly, why wouldn't the current boss want his son to succeed him? I mean, I get that _now_ the current boss wants that but isn't that strange? You would think he would want that in the first place—it is his son. Another thing, why do they need those echelon and advisors? Isn't the point of being a mafia boss to have a Monarchy of power? Not a democracy of 'let's decide together' who should be boss?" My thoughts come out in a tangent, and I want to give a mocking snicker at the illogical though process of the mafia.

"Calm down pussy cat," Alana starts. Her words –pussy cat—irk me, but she keeps speaking, telling me to calm down and not question the mafia.

I get to the main point, still a little miffed at her words. "What's up with the Vongola's power system?"

Alana rolls her eyes. "How the fuck am I supposed to know that? I'm not in the Vongola."

"Excuses," I scoff, mimicking the gesture she has done to me countless times. Then I start giggling, amused by my own joke.

But why would the current boss change his successor? That isn't the type of thing you decide on a whim. Power struggles are a dangerous thing.

Alana starts telling me that I'm undergoing some kind of training today: it's to hide my presence. When I ask why, she swallows her noodles in a large gulp before replying. "Because dying is _not_ on my To Do List as of late, and if we're going to snoop on Clam doings, I need to teach you how to be a slight shinobi."

This is news to me; I had no idea that _we___were going to pursue the Vongola. Dee usually puts up a barbwire fence on anything dangerous when I'm around. It is the whole reason we moved to Namimori, so she could keep e away from her life as an assassin. _'The mafia world is too dangerous'_ as she once said. But exactly how does she intend to train me in one days' time? Is there a manual to being a shinobi? _Being a shinobi for dummies_? _Surviving the mafia for eighty days?_

"You better be willing to die for me if things get bad." I say with a joking tone.  
>-<p>

_Later that night…_

The day ended in a very anticlimactic fashion, we got back before sundown with no trouble. The lesson about hiding my presence came easily enough. For the most part it is all about being calm and sneaky. Hiding yourself within yourself. Alana claimed that we would need to be sneaky if we intend to spy on the Vongola groups.

"_The Vongola are numero uno in the underworld and the Varia is their never fail assassin squad. We don't stand a chance against them if we're caught."_

I giggled when she told me that my schoolmates are assassins—such irony. In an attempt to escape the underworld, we runaway to the most distant place Alana could find, to a country whose language I could barely speak, to Japan! Yet they were already here, the mafia, or at least the future generation of it. I'm sure of it now: God has a sense of humor and life is his joke.

On top of my bed, I wiggle around and glance at the alarm clock sitting across the room. Big red letters tell me the time: eleven twenty. Time to get up. I turn back and stare at the celling for a moment longer, before leaving my bed to travel downstairs. Cold air brushes against me and the warm comforter calls back with a siren's tune. No, Alana will be mad if go back to bed, it was my responsibility to wake her up on time. Signing, I descend downstairs to see my cousin sprawled on the couch, her face slack with slumber. A Mac laptop lies on the coffee table beside her, humming soft notes and crooning quiet voices.

I speak softly, while hoping off the last step. "Time to get up."

The music picks up speed but she doesn't stir. After calling her for a second time, Alana rises from her nap with a dull expression and her dark hair tousled. "I'm up," She croaks. For a moment there is pause of hesitation between us, but then we start bustling around like busy bees and the music is cut short by Alana who promptly shuts her laptop. She goes to the upper level as I sit on a leather bar stool and slip on some shoes. The granite countertop provides a good hold for pushing myself around in a circle while I wait and watch the room spin. The stairs let out a creek, and I look up and one-handedly anchor myself with the granite counters. Stepping down the spiral stair case is my cousin, shifting her shoulders around in a stretch.

"Ready?" Dee asks, while walking straight to the front door.

"Ready." I answer, hopping off the seat and scurrying to the door. I close the door on my way out since the speedy assassin is already on her bike, engine running, and ready to go. "You're not going to lock it?" I question while sliding onto the vibrating bike and hugging her small frame. Anyone could just break in at any moment.

"Nah," She laughs with self-amusement. "I have insurance."

_How comforting._

Alana asks me if I'm sure the fights at twelve. Admittedly, I have this vague inclination that they might have said eleven—but who holds a fight at eleven'o clock instead of midnight? We exchange glances. The fight has to start at twelve, it is written in the universal rule book of timing. Only extremely dumb idiots would hold it at eleven.

I shake my head, doing away with the pondering. "Let's just leave."

Simultaneously we put on our helmets, deafening the engine's purr. The motorcycle rolls down the un-cemented mountain road, transitioning smoothly into town after a few minutes. Even in Japan—a traffic crazy place—the streets are close to empty at this time of night; we have no trouble with driving by the school and then parking a few streets down in an alleyway. Only a few feet wide, the space between two brick buildings is wide compared to most of the narrow alleyways in Namimori. I release my cousin's waist and slide the helmets off my head. There's a grimace as it plucks some of my fine brown hair on its way off (I should wear beanie before putting this thing on).

"_It's best to be careful when tracking the_ _Vongola_." I muse in my native language. Alana lets out a breathless chuckle as she takes off her helmet and sets it on the bike, her dark locks remain perfectly in place. I follow her example with the helmet, and then whip around so my legs on the same side of the mechanical beast. After getting off the bike, I ask about our game plan.

"_I thought we agreed on no stupid questions in this relationship." _She jokes, taking on the English language too.

I roll my eyes, a smile playing on my lips. _"Seriously, you're the one leading this tango."_

"_Duh, we're off to go ed-u-mi-ca-tion."_ She jokes while pointing in the school's direction, her manicured nails shining under the street lights. I was hoping for a more specific plan, but my chuckles prevent any further questioning.

I follow her out of the alley and onto the sidewalk; nighttime Namimori middle school greets my sight with a clandestine air. The top levels of school are barely visible, and the buildings seem to be haunted by an unnatural emptiness. From far off there is a burly figure in front of the gates, standing tall and straight like a fierce guardian. My heart quickens. What are we going to do about a guard? I steal a glance at Alana. She keeps a causal walk and a smirk, but her dark eyes are trained on the figure ahead with an unusual intensity. With an exhaled breath, I relax my shoulders and smile. There is nothing suspicious about us, and I'll be fine so long as Dee is with me. As we reach the locked gates of Namimori, the man, even taller and bigger in person, dressed in all black with shades, tilts his head toward us. "The school is closed for tonight, go home."

Alana looks at me, still smiling, and then glances toward a big tree a few yards away; a bulky plant leaning against the cement walls of the school fence with some of its branches and leaves sprawled on the top of, and over, the thick guarding wall of the grounds. I look back to the muscular man and smile, just like my cousin, before walking on to the tree. A tingling sensation begins in my stomach, and though I know how wrong it is, I can't help but grin with excitement as a shiver of pleasure run over me. There is a moment of silence from behind me, and then the rustling of movement followed by a 'thud'.

It's not until reaching the large gangly tree that I dare turn around.

The man, who once stood so tall, was now on the ground being towered over by Alana. I watch as she bends down and drags the man three times her size into a pair of thick bushes by the gates. Gazing at the pile of meat, I search from some remorse or fear, but only find a morbid fascination about how quick and easy killing can be. It's not like he was my friend or anything. Alana begins to look up into my direction, so I whip around and face the tree again. The bark stares back at me, plain, brown, and simple enough to climb. I grab the lowest branch and begin to pull myself up. The bark scratches against my hand, the rough texture marring against my soft skin. With a few pain fuelled hisses, I reach the cement walls and sit on them while Alana simply swings herself up to the ledge in one motion.

"They have illusionist." My cousin murmurs while sweeping the grounds below with her dark brown eyes. I see nothing out of the ordinary besides for a glaring light that mysteriously appeared in the back of the school. Other than the light, it was normal Namimori middle: large school buildings, a few trees, and a perfectly cut lawn.

"Do you mean the lights?" I question.

She nods and then explains how illusionist must be hiding the lights from anyone not on school property by putting up an illusion around the school. She also warns me to be careful, the illusionist could be anywhere on the grounds. After a moment Alana laughs and gives a devil may care grin. Her teeth are unnaturally white even in the dark, they nearly glow. "At least we know where to go," she comments lightly. I giggle; yeah at least we know where to go.

Alana points at the last building in the back of the school, "We'll spy on them from that building. The higher we get the less likely they are to see us."

"The doors are looked after hours," I comment. "And if they're unlocked_ today_ it's probably not a good idea to go in them."

"_Hello my name is Mia, and I like to state the obvious_."

I throw my hands up in the air at her retort. What the fuck is that for? How do you respond to that? My mind blanks as it tries to come up with something acceptable to say, but all that comes out is awkward breaths and 'uhs!'. She keeps staring at me with a quirked brow, but I have nothing to say—fuck. I'm just not as witty as her. I never have been.

My stutters come to end upon the patter of footsteps. I freeze.

Light and quiet, a girl with pink hair, dark skin, and masked eyes strolls around the perimeters of the gates. She has stylish clothes and young skin like a girl, but she walks as if she has the maturity and stature of a Secret Service agent. There is no notice of us at first. The patches of leaves from the tree slightly give cover, but it doesn't completely wall us from her view.

Alana must notice this too, because she launches herself for a kill shot before the pink haired girl can get too close. It's a miss. We're screwed.

"Interference is not allowed. Those not invited to this event are to leave at once. By decree of the Ninth Vongola Boss, interlopers of this private event will be penalized."

Alana's missed, lost the element of surprise, and is about to be penalized. I need to get the fuck out of here before anything happens to me. There is nothing I can do against them, especially if she dies. While the masked girl repeats that Alana is to be penalized, I slowly and quietly turn around on the ledge so I can get down from the tree side and then flee. Crouched on the top of the fence I lean over to grab the thickest branch possible, but lose my balance instead.

The leafs of the trees and stars of the sky swoosh in front of me as my body falls backwards, feet swept from under me. I go down head first, but my body flips around so that only the front of me hits the ground instead of the top of me. My knees take the brute of my slap into the ground, and my face doesn't take any at all thanks to the shielding of my hands. The wind is knocked out of me, and I lay there on the ground, stunned, nauseous, and breathless.

I lay on the grass floor for only a few seconds, too dumbfounded for pain or movement. But the shock lasts only a few seconds, and then the hurt comes with fresh tears. The pounding of my body goes straight to my head and I yield to the pain with immobilization and simply hold still. After a while everywhere but my stomach dulls in pain and leaves only the thrumming of blood that rushes inside of me, making my skin hot to the touch. When my eyes open, I find a pair of plain, tan moccasins to the left of my face. Towering above me is the young woman the shoes belong to.

"Are you okay?" Alana asks, her face desperately trying to repress laughter. Her brown eyes are alight with amusement while mine only contain tears of pain. I look up to her, feeling pathetic and hurt. The attempts of holding back her chuckles are futile and she snorts them out ruthlessly at my expense. But the act is too infectious and I smile weakly.

"Nooohohoo," The words smash together with a low howl of pain and a slight chuckle. I wipe a little spit from my lower lip and look around for the pink haired girl's corpse. It's nowhere in sight, but there is a small puddle of crimson liquid where the girl once stood.

The gloved hands of my cousin reach down for me to grab, yank me up to my feet, and then let go in one quick motion. A shot of soreness runs through my bones, but I ignore it and focus on the smear of blood she left against my palm. Then look up to focus on her. Dee's face shows a lack of strain or tension; only smiles and laughs from her. "You look pretty fucked up," She observes with her merry tone and cheery laughter. I wipe the stain on my pants, choosing not be concerned with it. "That was a _fucked-up_ fall." I proclaimed seriously while brushing some of the debris off my arms in an attempt to look more composed.

I might have said more but the glow behind the school distracts me by dimming drastically. Did the fight just start? If so, then why dim?

There are a few moments of just gazing at the light which dares to peak out from the last school building. It is an ominous glow, a foretelling of death. One of the candidate guardians will and must die tonight; the Varia won't accept anything less. At the house Dee told me that to be a member of the Varia is to be a predator among predators. You either succeed and kill your target or fail and die by your allies; there are no other options. However, she mentioned lightly, the pay is supposed to be incredible.

"Back to our earlier conversation, how are we suppose to get on top of that building?"

Our brown eyes lock. She shrugs her shoulders, "Ehh, let's just go in the school and find somewhere cool to watch this."

My lips twitch upwards and my head tilts down. Is she serious? "How do you purpose we get in? And I _might _have mentioned this earlier, but if the doors are unlooked, it may not be a good idea to go inside."

With a cocky smirk, my cousin coolly claims that 'she's got this'. I retort skeptically but nonetheless admit that I'll follow her lead. So when she tells me to move, I move, trailing behind her like an obedient dog. It occurs to me that this is how most of our conversations go, one of us proclaims something crazy and the other accepts. We're pretty compatible together overall, _friends_ I would say. And that's always cool.

As we get to the locked doors of the building, I stop a few feet away while Alana keeps moving at full speed. She never hesitates, pauses, or even stops in her movement as she walks up to the door, shoves something in, and kicks. She loses me when performing the complicated (and loud) unlocking door maneuver. I have no idea what just happened, but Alana has the door wide open. _Just follow her lead_, I remind myself.

With a victorious grin, Dee strides inside as if she owns the place. For a small woman, she possesses a big attitude. I take a few steps forward and stand at the threshold of an unlit and ominous hallway. There are stairs leading up to the next floor, and my cousin is marching up them fearlessly and carelessly, unaware of how the school's darkness slowly devours her with each step.

_You should turn back, before it's too late._

No, I don't think I will.

After a quick glance behind to make sure no one is watching, I step inside and close the school door. The lights, less violent and strong then as they had been before, gleam from the right side of the windows, now a faint glow. My skin crawls at the contrast of darkness and light in the school. Is it silly that there is the sudden urge to hold Alana's hand?

"It's not." I reassure myself while quickly catching up to my cousin before the darkness completely separates us. "It's so dark," I mutter, noticing how Alana's hair appears black instead of its usual dark brown.

She slides open the door of a random classroom and slips inside; I follow and shut the door behind me. We go to the windows and peer down at the spectacle below us. The strong glow from earlier had been from ridiculously large stadium lights put up in the sports field. Most of them are broken now, shattered by some force. In the middle of the sport yard, directly below the lights, is a caged boxing ring with two guys in the center of it. Shouldn't a mafia fight be more about shooting than boxing?

From here I can make out the tanned body and white hair of the young man from class today, Ryohei Sasagawa, standing in the ring with his hands raised in a boxing position. He looks vastly different compared to other guy in the ring. With green hair and sunglasses, his opponent is the Varia's sun guardian. Neither of the two is making a punch right now, but my 'sempai' looks like he's been through the ringer. I crack a smile, amused by the pun.

"The older one wearing the sunglasses and the atypical hairstyle is Lussuria of Varia. He's a very skilled Nak Muay (muy thai fighter). From what I know, he's assumed to be the oldest of the seven leaders.

Looking down on the men below a smug feeling rises in my chest and a smirk appears on my face. They're oblivious to us, unaware of how we've been watching them. Then I frown, considering Alana's words. "Assumed? You can't find these guys?" I ask, and then let the question "Are they better than you?" slip right out of my lips. I cover my mouth, horrified I asked something so rude with such a snobbish tone.

"It's not a matter of finding them, everyone knows where they are, but only an idiot would go spelunking where monsters sleep." She says and then after a second adds. "And yes, they could probably kill me."

"Spelunking?" I repeat, ignorant of its meaning. Then my tone takes a teasing note. "_Probably?_ Being a little cocky now aren't you?"

With a good natured laugh Dee goes on and explains that she would need a cheap shot to kill a member of the Varia, it is better not to attempt it, and that I'm an idiot for not knowing what spelunking means. I giggle at her harsh humor.

"Well, sorry. We can't all piss excellence." I reply. "And I thought the greatest skill would be the skill of running away."

My eyes go down to the arena just as the white haired fighter is making a direct punch at his opponents steel covered knee. My mouth gawks open as I stare at the teenage boy who just shattered a metal knee. The older one with dyed flamboyant hair lands on his face and then his back: he is clearly out from the competition. Lussuria is on the ground sweating profusely, but makes a pointless struggle to get up and fight despite his crippled leg.

"Wow," I mutter to myself, as the loser continues to wiggle on the ground. Alana takes a picture on her phone. My excitement spikes and, though it's unorthodox, I'm smiling in glee. That was incredible! "How amazing!" I whisper in admiration. The white-haired winner comes over to Lussuria. Is he going to kill him?!

"Do you guys get hits for other hitman? For example: would your boss give you a mission to kill a Varia member?" I ask as the thought occurs to me.

I never get an answer to my question because instead of my sempai killing Lussuria, a** giant robot** does. Blood blasts from the back of Lussuria, a leader of the Varia, and then he goes down for the final count. I back away from the window, frightened and panicked over a GIANT ROBOT! My thighs hit the desk and I sit on it for a few seconds, letting the shock leave before I attempt to stand. I knew someone would die, but assumed it would be in the heat of battle by a human. Never did the thought 'a giant robot would kill the loser' occur. This is something out of a horror story. Who can possibly beat a giant robot? No one, they're invincible man killing machines!

"I never signed up for man killing robots." I say out loud while staring off into space.

That robot could kill me in an instant; I might die by a giant robot.

"I told you this. Varia will not hesitate to erase a weak link." Alana says coldly, as if my problem was why the guy died rather than _how_ the guy died. Did she not notice the MAN KILLING ROBOT?!

"Man killing robot!" I stress, panicked at the idea. Jumping of the desk I proclaim we need to get out of ten minutes ago. The bulky metal body with smoking fingers flashes in my head. What if it goes on a rampage? Everyone would die.

From the window my cousin is attempting to calm me down, though she sounds thoroughly annoyed while doing so. I look up at her, unable to comprehend how she doesn't think a big, mobile robot with the instruction to kill humans is nothing to worry about. Carefully, I emphasize every word of man killing robot. After venting my problems a surge of rationality comes upon me. "But yeah, we should stay here for a while so no one will notice us leaving."

She shakes her head at me like I'm some ridiculous child. Grudgingly I see her point but refuse to admit it and opt to look out the window instead. My young Mafioso classmates are walking away, cool as cucumbers, as if they had not just witnessed a murdering robot. Maybe I am going over the top on this robot thing, the others kids seem to be fine with it. Then again, I think looking at the group; they hang out with some shady looking people that might not be saying much. There is a baby; probably the one Alana says I need to be afraid of. There is also an old man who looks like a construction worker; maybe he is the guy who built the ring? No to mention the boy who started this whole mess; a young brunette my age that has a boomerang and once sported a blue light on his head. The construction worker and trouble starting brunette veer off from the others but appear to be leaving as well. These Mafioso are super strange, especially with their choice of company.

My brown eyes scan the ground, but the area is cleared of all the mafioso. All that's left is the cages ring and broken lights. But where did the Varia go and how can they disappear with a giant massacring robot so quickly? These people don't just defy the law; they seem to defy logic too.

I wake up from my thoughts as Dee moves over to the door and opens it. "Stay a few paces behind me." She says while scanning the hallway. Dee murmurs that the train station is our meeting spot in case of separation before taking a step outside of the classroom. Alana begins walking down the hallway and signals for me to do the same. I lag behind several feet as we make our way down the steps, feet quietly rubbing against the floor. I see her shove the schools entrance doors open and the moonlight shines upon her. The door opens with a whoosh, but it doesn't close with one. I'm on the last step and about to jump off when I notice. Looking up I see Alana frozen in the door way and her body tense: she's been caught.


	7. October 19th and 20th

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

* * *

><p><em>October 19th<em>

Swiftly and silently, I stride to the other end of the school. My pace and heart, frantic. While secretly moving around the building, I attempt to examine my cousin's situation. Alana is an experienced assassin so she must have a fair chance of escaping, she killed those other two so easily after all. And there could not have been many people who caught her or she would have sensed them, or at least heard them. So most likely she had one or two opponents, and therefore the situation is probably manageable. Yet if it is a member of the Varia...'_The Vongola are numero uno in the underworld and the Varia is their never fail assassin squad.. We don't stand a chance against them if we're caught_.'

A wave of anxiety hits me as I sneak around my unlit school. So much can go wrong right now, too much. I swallow my worry with a gulp while focusing on the school's back exit. The only exit I've got.

Coming to the building's back exit, I peek through the door's windows first, finding nothing but deserted school grounds before it, and then gently push open the heavy metal doors. A creak of the hinges cause my breath to hitch, yet the pushing continues until I completely slip out into the open grounds. The night is lit by stars and street lamps. Gathering courage to face fear, I rush boldly through the school grounds, quickly making my way closer to the front gates while sticking close to the school buildings for cover. Get to the train-station, that's the rendezvous point. I've made it past the school buildings and have a full frontal view of those large and unlocked Namimori gate when someone speaks to me.

My body spins around, blood running cold as I take in the teenage boy before me. He is the dirty blonde with a blue flame that fought on the roof tops with the longhair Varia member, Superbi Squalo. Though his figure and height and appearance are normal, the way he is speaking is not. He looks at me with clear blue eyes speaking some sort of strange Japanese.

"_What_?" I question in English, completely thrown off by his strange tongue.

His young face brightens with a smile, "_Thou speaketh English_?"

What the fuck? This guy is utterly certifiable, better go along with it. "_I do, young sir_."

There is a slight suspicion in the line of his expression, yet it's obvious that he has an innocent soul. This dirty blonde boy has no taste for murder and probably would be against hitting a defenseless lady. Staring into his clear blue eyes, it's obvious my chances for surviving this night have significantly increased.

"_What is thou doing in such a place?"_ he asks with genuine concern.

I've just hit the jack pot: running into a nice guy who was able to hold his own against the Varia that wants to help me.

My pretty brown eyes go wide and my lush pink lips extend into a helpless pout. With a bit of hysteria, I explain, "_I've become lost on my way. I've wandered this strange town for hours and cannot find the train-station._" For effect I make the 'chuga-chuga' engaging motion with my arms. I request in my most feminine voice, "_Would thou aid me in this quest_?"

The blue eyes sparkle in chivalry, as he agrees to the favor in an Italian accent. Like a white knight, he gallantly escorts me out of Namimori middle school with gentle hand gestures. On our journey, he ask me why I'm in Japan. "_My brother and I have come to visit his fiancé parents, they live here_." I lie, and then upon further inquiry, I explain (while trying to speak in the same midevil speech) and tell him that our parents are dead and my brother has constantly looked out for me ever since. And he certainly couldn't leave me in Canada alone now could he?

He accepts my story easily and faithfully, he even sympathizes by telling me his parents are also dead. When I ask him about his purpose in Japan, the answerer is vague and not completely untrue. "_Thyself is here to aid in family business matters_."

"_That's so kind of thee!_" I exclaim, as if impressed by his willingness to help. It nearly pains me to sound so dainty and cheery. Luckily, we reach the outside of the Train-station right after my compliments is given. The place is a bunch of empty platforms with wooden benches and plastic green garbage cans. It was paved clearly and all the trains were out.

I turn to my guide and smile, "_I have not received thou's name yet. My own is ma..rge._.." I purposely mumble the last part, trying to restrict his information. He accepts it well, not wanting to make an awkward request for me to speak up.

"_Thy name is Basil,_" He tells me and it is the truth; the name is too suspicious to be false. I smile now assured in how he views me. To him I am a lost foreigner in need to good direction rather than an interloper in need of a bullet to the head.

"_Farewell Basil, may thee have good fortune on thou's journey home_."

He leaves in a friend manner, and I wait until he is completely out of sight to stop smiling. With a sigh, I ponder on the innocent teenage mafioso. None of them seem suited for the mafia life. They're too young and kind and naïve. Would any of my classmates or Basil be alright with breaking a man knees or killing out of greed?

Gokudera-san would, I think a little dreamily. A small smirk graces my lips and a sigh escapes me.

"Ya done planning your dream date with Basil-tan?" Asks Alana from my left side. I look at her, taking the fact that is standing right next to me. My pause lasts two heartbeats.

I flinch back sharply, "Whatthehell!" I slur, surprised.

She laughs at my idiocy with that melodic voice and mocking tone. Her clothing is perfectly intact, there are no blood or cuts, so I assume everything went well and she killed whoever caught her. She flashes me an orbit-white smile and shoots out a cheeky remark per normal behavior. With a grin at my lips, our flow is back to normal immediately, unwavering despite our recent exposing.

"Thou is cruel," I say with every intention of mocking. "Thou is cruel."

* * *

><p><em>October 20th<em>

While in Namimori middle school's library, gathering a book for the upcoming Japanese test, I am approached by Hana Kurokawa. As in the mature and distant popular girl that is constantly with Kyoko-san. Her eyes glimmer with intelligence, but her expression maintains an apathetic view. This girl is not to be easily trifled with.

"Can I help you?" I coolly ask with an arched brow. It's best to keep composure with her.

The rain beats against the windows, providing music to our scene. She studies me with a calculating air and deep gray eyes before saying what is on her mind. "You're worrying Kyoko with you're behavior. She thinks you are mad at her."

While my anger goes beyond mad, I calmly lie to Kurokawa-san. "I'm not mad at her at all."

"Then why did you avoid her all during breaks?"

I stare at the pretty young woman before me, wondering if being that pretty makes you any less of a bitch. In retaliation I return her scrutinizing look, and reply, "She seemed very preoccupied today and I just didn't want her to have to bother with me. That's all."

Her thin shoulders relax slightly, accepting me and my excuses. Her wavy dark hair reminds me of Alana's, its shade mixing between dark brown and black.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could explain that to her. She already has to deal with suspicious monkey boys, having an unrequited friendship is the last the thing she needs."

My opinion of Kurokawa-san improves as I see her loyalty and concern for her friend. It also improves since she may be able to tell me more about the 'suspicious monkey boys'. Then again, her blunt and strong nature is something I'd prefer in a friend over Kyoko-san's sweet ignorance any day of the week. Strength and cunning are way cool.

"You'll have to be more specific," I say with the same arrogant tone as she. "All middle school boys are monkeys."

Her eyes flash with approval over my statement, which is good since I said it just for her. Kurokawa-san chuckles at me, raising her pale and delicate hand to politely cover the witty and harsh mouth of her's. I only smirk in response. How feminine.

"No good Sawada and his two friends, Gokudera and Yamamoto, they're acting strange again and causing Kyoko to worry."

They must know each other if she doesn't use honorifics with their last name. "What could they be doing that's worth worrying about?"

She shrugs and sighs, ready to complain to me. "They're all idiots doing idiot things with no maturity at all. That's worth worrying about all on its own."

"More so than other boys?"

She nods. How intriguing.

"I was unaware they had a reputation." I admit.

She must have wanted to rant about them for a while, because she immediately starts listing off all their dumb activates. From a prank suicide jump by Yamamoto and Sawada, to them having this mysterious and good looking friend, to Sawada always running around in his boxers, to them going to Kokuyo land and coming back with scratches and bruises. Apparently they all act outrageous to situations and are constantly getting themselves into trouble. There are even rumors going around that 'Sawada is Gokudera's and Yamamoto's bitch'.

For a second my mouth hangs open and a current of shock passes through me. However, with a quick recovery I process everything she just said and come up with one conclusion: "They really are idiots among idiots."

Hana nods her pretty head, signing dramatically. At that moment, I feel her pain keenly.

* * *

><p><em>October 20th<em>

Alana and I arrive to the Lighting Battle ten minuets before eleven. My cousin is soaked to the bone, the wetness of ragging rain shows by how her jeans and blue track jacket are drenched. It all clings to her short form, and though she wears a white tank-top underneath, there is no doubt in my mind she is as cold as I am. Her straight back and confident demeanor may not betray her wet and cold state, but with that tied up black hair sticking to her neck and that freezing wind slapping her face, it's impossible not to be cold. The pouring droplets slip down my figure too and even with two long shirts and a hoodie, the temperature attacks my body.

A warm breath escapes me, and I drop my self into the criss cross sitting position (so its is harder to see me from to school buildings away). My view of the arena is perfect by sitting on the top of the gym, the seven large and spiky poles which connect thick black wires are in direct view. Though Alana is able to see much better since she brought along handy dandy binoculars, apparently she can even able to watch the participants expressions. The Lighting Battle arena is a flat web of wires with oddly shaped lances at each vertex, there are seven strangely modeled lighting conducts (for what else could they be?). It is an enormous arena, several times bigger that boxing cage from last night, an it covers most of the school buildings. Namimori middle isn't a castle, but the school isn't exactly small either.

A Varia man stands near the arena, large and clad in black leather with eight thin metal batons (maybe?) secured to his back. He arrived before us and has stood in the downpour of rain and lighting motionlessly since then. He refuses to twitch despite the booming rolls of thunder. Dee, with an amused smirk, explains his name is Leviathan and he is known as an extremely zealous member of the Varia. Like most Varia members, his technique is unknown since no one has ever lived to tell about it.

The Cervello, masked pink haired model like girls who are the judges of the Vongola ring battles, are already there as well. They are probably the ones that set up the arena.

Whipping water away from my eyes, I watch as the roof's door swings open and four teenage boys come out, plus a trench coat wearing infant and cow clad child. Just after them the Varia drops in to the battle sight. They don't use stairs or anything, oh no, they just appear on other end of the building with only a falling afterimage to infer that the members didn't just teleport to the stadium. The rain drowns out the Vongola's voices, and the only thing we can hear is the, "**Lambo Fight! OOOHHH!**" from the young middle school Vongola as they form an embarrassing and zealous team circle. Hana is so right, they are a bunch of immature idiots.

"What's with the baby and kid?" I question to Alana, who is watching the mighty mafioso males across from us through spy binoculars.

"You mean the trench coat baby and Lambo?" She inquires.

With a glance up to her (because my sitting position), and a nod, I confirm that it is the baby in a trench coat and fedora as well as Lambo who is sporting his usual cow costume which I am referring to. They must be incredibly 'different' to be going against the most elite assassin group in the world. Alana says she doesn't know anything about them, which sounds like bullshit considering her mafia connections. She continues to press the slim black binoculars to her face.

I question her again and she give me another vague an uninformative answer. My inquiry is shot down twice more by her until finally I call it quits. "Fuck it."

She laughs with her deep and smooth voice, and continues watching the mafioso. Leviathan, lighting guardian candidate of the Varia, steps onto the wired field along with the careless cow child. Skipping happily, Lambo jumps onto the field undauntedly. He is so little, so young and immature, my breath hitches when I see him stand across the large Varia man, just a small bug in comparison. But he must be strong to take on the Varia. No one would send out a defenseless kid to be slaughtered, not if they aimed for winning the fight at least. Little Lambo will be alright.

"Aw, man. This is not what I was hoping for." Alana says regrettably. I stay silent and pray she is wrong. Alana doesn't stay silent though. "Do you want to leave? I kinda have no interest in seeing kids get killed."

Lambo loved running around at the mall, he was constantly laughing and getting trouble like a little shit. He cried when he fell down the stares and was so careless that he got lost.

"Are you sure he can't win? I mean, why else would he be there? Why not forfeit if he couldn't win?"

My cousin's next words,_ I don't see a five year old having the umph to kill somebody_, nearly make my heart stop. The dismal rain seems to pour harder and lighting strikes the poles, electrocuting Lambo. He is a blinding flash, screaming, and then he is gone. Face down on the stadium. Silent, still, stagnant. Dead?

"Shouldn't you stay? So you can report this to your boss?" My words are random to me, Lambo is lying on the ground motionless.

There is pause is her speech, but the pause is filled with hitting rain and dreadful waiting.

"I guess you make a point."

Lambo begins to move, to twitch and sit up. Then he cries. He cries with gusto and energy, and a liveliness that only a healthy five year old could have. "He's alright!" I whisper merrily, a smile wrapping itself around my lips. My heart soars filled with hope and relief.

Dee cracks a joke, amused and impressed. I offer a laugh, happy and humored. The moment ends when Leviathan does a kick, punch combo on the defenseless afro haired child. His small body flails around helplessly at the beating, and those gurgled cries break my heart. I may be too far away to see the blood and bruising, but the way his body flies across the field like a soccer ball is enough to fully understand how feeble Lambo is.

Yet he is sent to fight an impossible battle. By his own family.

"The ...Vongola..." I say slowly, with bitter acrimony. My words choke with hate,"are rotten..and repugnant. And they all deserve to burn for it."

Stricken with abhorrence, my eyes close and my lungs inhale. Even though I tightly grip my hands on the metal safety fence in front of me, my arms shake with fury.

"Is there anything we ca.." My words drift away as I watch Lambo. With runny eyes, the child pulls from his bushy black hair a bazooka. A big shiny purple bazooka, bigger than himself, pointed at himself. Then he shoots himself with it. A purple smoke permeates through the air, curling around the prepubescent lighting candidate, hiding Lambo for a short while. But as the smoke dissipates, it is a ten year older Lambo that appears.

Wait, but Lambo can't be fifteen years old. He's five..? Yet, that shiny black hair, cow print attire, that atmosphere of casualness and arrogance. That is Lambo, that is the child that shrieked while playing in the mall and demanded I buy him candy and treats.

"Am I crazy, or is that..." the bizarre situation refuses to be said aloud.

Blinking thrice, I watch Alana remove the binoculars from her oval face. Her pretty tan skin flushes despite the cold wetness and her dark eyes widen in wonder.

"I am geeking out." She points at the bazooka then she exclaims with such excitement and joy that it elicits a rather awkward smile out of me. So then this(what ever this is) is a good thing? "That is the ten year bazooka. That thing is _legendary_. You were a genius in suggesting that we stay."

The answer seems obvious yet so does the need to ask. "Does it make the..." I pause in search of the appropriate word. "victim...ten years older?"

After a chuckle, Dee confirms my suspicious about the strange weapon. She also tells me the word victim is inappropriate for the context since no one is getting hurt. I disagree with, but she continues her argument. I explain that 'user' is inappropriate as well because pulling the trigger and getting hit by the shell is not the same thing. The discussion enters an impasse when neither of us concedes vocabulary defeat.

Our attention is stolen from us when lighting hits the field once more, but this time its being absorbed by the lanky and tall ten-year-older Lambo. I smile, now that he is a teenager it really isn't that big a deal if he dies. He rushes at Leviathan but is knocked away then shocked by aggressive jolts of lighting, courtesy of lighting directing umbrellas that Leviathan has made able to levitate. I grimace when teenage Lambo is pierced by one of the Varia man's rods, its looks painful as it goes all the way through his shoulder. His cries can be heard from our position, but neither of us offer any sympathy. It's a fight to death, and we have been expecting to see teenagers get fucked up by professionals.

Then ten-year-older Lambo shoots himself with the bazooka.

"Twenty-year-older Lambo..?" I question, intrigued.

"Wo-ho. Someone's getting older." Alana comments mockingly. "Way to bitch out."

I'm snorting with laughter when this incredibly hot and manly twenty five year old appears from the purple smoke. His presence is heavy to the point I shiver, even from another building away.

"Woah. That guy makes your blood rise." My cousin comments, sounding impressed.

From here I can only spot an impressive body, shaggy hair, and light jacket that looks as is it had been ripped to pieces and then sown together. His face is too far to see clearly. Everyone on the building next to us seems to stop for a conversation, maybe an explanation, but it doesn't reach us. But what does reach us is the blinding shine of Leviathan's electric attack. Hiding away my eyes, I feel a wave of energy brush past me. Once the shine dims I look up to see an unaffected Lambo that has completely discharged the attack into the ground. Every window shatters, and my body flinches to sound of glass breaking and smashing together. A violent shiver passes over me, but this time I recognize it as danger.

"He's dangerous..." I whisper to myself. That man over there is overwhelmingly dangerous. "Wow.."

The dangerous man catches one of Leviathan's piercing rods and then throws it aside. Even as he absorbs numerous volts of lighting and tuns it into a current that sprouts from his head, the muscular, mature, man acts with ease. It is no surprise when he corners Levithan, a fearsome core member of the Varia, as simply as one might corner a butterfly.

However, it is a surprise when twenty-year-old Lambo poofs,with purple smoke, back into a five year old, electrified, Lambo.

"WHATTHEFUCK!" Alana bellows in English, with shallow rage.

"What happened?!" I cry as a burnt five-year-old Lambo falls unconscious on the field. The rain bats at him, hitting mercilessly and continuously.

_That cow has been barbequed._

"Someone's glass of luck has just ran dry."

"But why did he turn back to a little kid?" I ask.

"Because it is the ten-year bazooka, it has a time limit."

"He's gonna die," I squeak, clutching my chest in horror. That poor child!

My cold-hearted cousin puts her hand on my shoulder, and I know there is a joke ready to fall off her lips. "You met him once, right? Did ya like him?"

"I guess. Yeah."

"Then he was a great little kid."

The joking consoling has a horrified, and humorous, effect. I clamp my hand to my gaping mouth, horrified by the fact that Lambo is going to die and that we both find it funny: I only find it funny because Alana made a joke about it.

As Leviathan raises his foot, my smile still twitches, and even as he lowers and stomps and stomps and stomps, it never fully fades. 'Then he was a great little kid'. Damnit Alana, why did you have to make this funny. Lambo goes flying with one of Leviathan's kicks, and seeing a splatter of blood wipes the grin off my face. That boy, the one who said I could be his friend for the price of two grape candies, is lying on the cold ground, defenseless, alone, and doomed die. There is no mother or father protecting him, nor any of his supposed 'family'.

We need to stop this.

"We need to stop this." I say. Too late.

Leviathan, lifts his hulking arms and gather electricity to his raised umbrella. Lambo is a weak and wounded lamb, about to be sacrifice to appease the blood lust of the Vongola. Alana's answer supports this ungodly ritual: "No."

My breath halts to the sight of orange, so fast for a second I consider it is my imagination, zooming around the arena. Any after image is lost in the shadowy and rain filled night. I watch the lances tumble over one by one. Before the first even touched the ground, the last lance beings to fall. All the rods fall, protecting Lambo from a deathly blow, and Sawada-san stands to face everyone. There are small flames on Sawada-san, a glimmer at such a distance, yet undeniably a orange flame. The rain refuses to extinguish the glorious flames in his hands despite the curling and hissing smoke arising from them. So small yet so strong.

Even without words his intentions are clear: He will protect this kid with his last dying breath.

All the mafioso turn to him in a sort of wonder. Even I'm filled with a bit of wander, that such strange powers exist and can be used so efficiently. The small spots of orange tantalize my vision, and flicker gently like a candle's ember. Without words or an explanation, I know the flames are not fire. They are too divine to be fire even if they are flames.

"Mia."

Dee's urgent whisper catches my attention only for a second, for my focus is stolen away by a crash in the lighting field. Sawada-san has been pushed to the ground, and a fierce Italian man stands before all on top of a school building. The rain nor lighting cannot muffle 'Xanxus!', and it rings throughout the night, a foreboding warning of God's wrath.

The violent shivers return to me, but instead saying danger my body screams 'RUN!'. Alana grips my wrist, but whatever she says to me is lost in the pouring of rain and terror. It doesn't matter anyways, because I'm already running into the building behind her. I'm running away from the thunder and the downpour which submit to a man named Xanxus. A man who reeks of death and wrath and the urge to kill. I hear my heart beating and my feet running, yet the only sound that matters is 'Xanxus'. Xanxus and Demise, they sound the same.

* * *

><p><em>October 20th<em>

Drinks have been poured, for Alana alcohol, for me milk. Both of our cups are rather large. We are sitting on the round, black leather bar stools, the ones that are good for spinning. Knocking back my cold drink, a refreshing feeling comes over me with each deep gulp. I sigh merrily and place back my half empty jumbo cup. Stress relief is definitely needed after such a harsh night. Seeing a five-year-old get beat up, time travel, and people control lighting ties knots up my back. And having death incarnate blaze onto the field didn't help the stress. And the best cure to stress knots is a cold glass of milk.

Alana's wet jacket lies in the middle of the entry way, dripping into a small puddle. My cousins thick dark hair is pulled up into a lazy bun, and the figure of her sports bra is clear through her soaked white tank top. The florescent lights are harsh against the sun kissed skin and trails of rain continues to roll off her form.

"That was one of the scariest nights of my life," I declare, still seeing scornful scowls and looming danger. I've freed myself of every drenched clothing, minus one damp blue sweatshirt that sticks to my skin. Chill run through my body.

"I wouldn't deny it, especially with Xanxus entering the arena oh so suddenly. " She takes a drink. "That guy, I didn't even feel him coming. He just appeared like magic. Like a goddam wizard or something." Alana took another drink. "Damn that ten-year bazook was so cool, I'm _so_ gonna steal that thing from him."

A clear liquid coats Alana's pink lips but is lapped up by her tongue. Without looking, the back of my wrist wipes white milk from my upper lip. Stealing from the mafia, especially the Vongola, sounds very dangerous. I tell my older cousin this thought and her pretty face shifts into a reassuring grin. "Uhuh, he maybe part of the Vongola, but he is of Bovino. Only the Bovino family has the ten year bazooka. I don't care, I'm still gonna steal it."

So many families and specialties, how is it possible to get them all straight? There needs to be a course for this kinda of thing, a mafia 101. _Sounds brilliant, I'll introduce it to the class tomorrow._

"Well, just don't get killed."

"Pssh me? Never. They couldn't kill me if the tried. I'm like a fucking cockroach." She grins heartily. Her cheeks had begun to glow red with the warmth of liquor.

That man Xanxus could crush her in an instant, with such an overpowering strength. It reeked off him like superfluous used cologne, choking the air with intensity. "Being around him was just insanity. I don't think I've ever felt like that before. Or twenty five year old Lambo. He chilled my blood too."

"That's power." She says with mean smile on her pink lips. She takes another drink. "Exciting isn't it?"

It is.

A thought occurs to me, teases at my logic and reasoning. This mafia display has been a collision of danger and impossibilities. Flames of power, bodies of demigods, and weapons of time-travel. Impossibilities that are so accepted in this mafia world which seem to me a mad dream. None of this experience has been like the _Godfather_ trilogy or the film _Goodfellas_. "Has the mafia always been like this? Unreal?"

Alana doesn't understand my question.

"Have these impossibilities always been possible within the mafia?"

Dee fully smiles and looks down on me with those indecipherable dark eyes. "Of course. It's usually the most curious who are the most evil. And birds of a feather flock together."

I ask because it is the natural thing do. "Then what does that make us?"

"Curious."

At this moment, I accept the mafia. I accept the madness, the strength, the bizarreness and my own curiosity.

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><p>Assholes &amp; Idiots » reviews<p>

"Have these impossibilities always been possible within the mafia?" "Of course. It's usually the most curious who are the most evil. And birds of a feather flock together." "Then what does that make us?" "Curious." OC story.

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! - Rated: T - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 6 - Words: 32,464 - Yamamoto & Tsuyoshi Y./Yamamoto's Father


	8. October 21st

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn**

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><p><em>October 21st<em>

Third period, twenty five minuets in. Most students are in class, and those who skip classes have either arrived last period or won't be leaving for two more periods. I know, because that is exactly what I do. The hallway and nurse's office are likely to have to least amount of traffic now, and my excuse will seem more genuine. Time to move. Raising my hand and sobering my expression, I call out the math teaching sensei. "I need to go to nurses office, my stomach."

Teacher, being a kind and softhearted person, agrees then turn his attention back to the lesson. I rise from my desk, focusing on the sound my chair makes as it scoots back and then the sound the door makes as it slides open. Closing it gently, I calmly walk through the hallway with my eyes ahead despite the glaring light from the open side windows. Time to be brave and daring. That is the only way my plan has a chance of working. Confidence inspires success.

After reaching the nurses office, my anticipated and often visited destination, I take a sharp breath and continue with my bold scheme. Actually, it may not be complicated enough to be called a scheme.

Opening the door, my heart jumps at the sight of handsome, mysterious, and bad boy Gokudera Hayato sitting at the nurse's table with a cigarette hanging off his lips. What is he doing here? His jade eyes flash up to me then to Doctor Shamal who is passed out on an examination bed with a bottle of beer in his hand and dressed in an expensive black shirt, like usual. Gokudera-san is quickly folding paper airplanes with his long, delicate fingers at the desk but watches me curiously and suspiciously. Beside him is a box full of paper airplanes and on the table is a stack of yet to be folded printer paper.

I nonchalantly nod to him in acknowledgment but remain silent and aloof—mustn't seem uncool and loose my composure—then walk straight to an unconscious Doctor Shamal with all the bravado I possess. Gokudera-san continues watching me move, much to my delight. It becomes difficult not grin and acknowledge how wonderful it is to have him starring at me. Maybe he will think I'm cool?

I sit on the bed next to Doctor Shamal with a casual air, leaning back on my left arm. He is a man who I regularly visit, a man who regularly goes along with my bullshit excuses to get out class. As an irresponsible acquaintance, he might help me out without any questions. After all, he has never really questioned my strange activates before (and I've asked for official note claiming I've got a tumor) or my constant skipping, so why would he now? The Doctor's closed eyes have dark circles and stubble runs along his jaw. There are several more beer cans littering around, giving off the repugnant smell of alcohol.

"Hey," I call informally and disinterestedly, like a regular cool kid. My brown eyes glide over him. Will this work? "I need the keys to medicine cabinet. Please?"

His body is still and drunk, not responding to my request. Wake up Doctor, Gokudera-san is watching me! Failure is no longer an option.

In a more apathetic manner than I feel, I smoothly run my hand down from his shoulder to his elbow and ask the question again. Jingling silver keys appear before me, dangling from Doctor Shamal's suddenly alive hand. "Thank you~." I say politely and sweetly while removing my hand from his arm.

I cannot believe that really worked. Not even a kiss in exchange, just a brush of the hand. Doctor Shamal, I don't care what the other students say about you. You're alright in my book.

Grasping the cold keys in my hand, I turn to the shocked Gokudera Hayato behind me and grin. His widened green eyes and taken back expression please me, it means I have exceeded his expectations. Cutely and coolly, I press a finger to my lips and request his silence on the underhanded endeavor. He frowns in confusion but doesn't stop me.

I go over to the glass cabinet by Gokudera-san and stick in the keys. It takes a bit of strength, but I turn the key and open the cabinet and am presented with numerous medical bottles. There are large one and small ones. Brown one and clear ones. Some are written katakana, some in English, some in Italian. Some in languages foreign to me. In the left corner of the shelf, after some intense shuffling, I find several bottles of morphine written in English. Something I can understand how to use easily, and will quickly effect my attacker (or victim). Definitely useful for a situation like the one at the sun battle. With a breath of encouragement, I grab two of the small brown bottles and casually pocket them. After my bold theft, I lock up the door and hand the keys back to Shamal who is up and watching with amusement. I grin at Doctor Shamal then Gokudera-kun, ready to walk out in triumph.

Then my skirt flicks up by the Doctor's hand, showing my thin and delicate blue panties to the world. To Gokudera-san and Doctor Shamal.

My face burns in horror, and I brush down my sailor blue skirt with my hands. Horrified and humiliated and not sure what to do, I glance up at the spectators. Gokudera-san's face blushes and his green eyes avoid mine. He definitely saw them! He saw them and they were girly! Doctor Shamal's lewd face grins with appreciation and alcohol burnt cheeks. That fucking asshole, I hope he dies!

"Whydidyouthattome?!" I cry, then feeling tears about to sprout forth, rush out the room in a heated mess. The door slams from behind and I hear their voices immediately break out. I swear I can even hear them as I run down the hall. Why didn't I wear the black lacy ones today instead?!

I lie in depths of the library, weeping next to the rarely visited travel sections. I'm crying by the stupid smiling face of an Italian student exchange program when the bell for third period rings. The long sleeve of my navy blue jacket is wet with wiped off tears, and my eyes are swollen from the continuous crying. I let out a shudder that hurts my constricted throat. Gokudera-san saw my underwear, now I will always be the girl whose underwear he saw. Whose underwear the dirty old man Doctor Shamal saw. And he's probably going to tell his friends who will tell their friends, and then eventually everyone in the whole school will know about my humiliation. And every time they see me they will think of blue frilly undies. What a horrible day!

A few more hot tears run down my face, and some snot drips from my nose. I wipe both away.

Taking deep breath and allowing it to shudder, my breathing begins to calm. After a second I stand up. Resolving to go home for the rest of the day, I walk through the maze of bookshelves and keep my head down so that a curtain of brown hair covers my face. The sun shines through the windows and threatens to illuminate my reddened face, which I'm determined to hide. You must never let anyone see you cry. It shows weakness.

However, when Kurokawa-san calls my fake name I reflexively do just that. "Yes?"

Dammit my voice is hoarse from the crying. The mature girl from my class immediately notices and comes over from the Library's entrance quickly. Despite my last second effort to clean up my face, the flush is obvious from Kurokawa's concerned reaction. Those intelligent gray eyes aren't just for show.

"Hey Kuorkawa-san," I greet as cheerily as possible. Her frown discourages me from any more false happiness.

"Call me Hana-chan," She demands before sharply asking what happened. The dark blue uniform looks good on her, even the oversized pink bow; her prettiness must be a clear contrast to my crying face.

I tell her its stupid and I'm simply being immature but she continues to inquire. She orders me tell her, and I realize I have no one else to tell. Alana would give me an unneeded joke to the situation and no sympathy. Hana-chan looks at me so seriously with a stern gaze and pressed together lips, I tell her about everything but the morphine and my crush on Gokudera-kun. There's no need to tell anyone about that. Ever.

"What a perv!" She nearly shouts. Her eyes are ablaze with righteous anger, and her porcelain pale face is tinted pink with rushing blood. "You so need to report him to the faculty."

"No." I tell her urgently, panicked that she might take matters in her own hands and inform the faculty. Which in cause would lead to me being found out about the morphine. "I would be humiliated to have all my sensei know and give me 'that look'. Beside if Shamal does it again, I'll beat the shit out of him."

So many lies in just two sentences.

"Fine," Hana concedes with a disapproving look. Her eyes roam over me to check for any physical injury. "But it's disgusting that old men act as immature as boys."

"Completely," I agree, and suddenly my heart is lighter and I'm able to crack a real smile. "Looking back it really is more stupid than mean."

Hana-chan tilts her head and rolls her eyes. "Stupid is as stupid does. Just make sure you don't react to it. Rise above the embarrassment."

"Of course," I realize. "If I look unaffected then I'll seem very aloof and mature."

We connect eyes, we grin, and we silently acknowledge the fact that we have just become friends. This is great, another secret connection to the Vongola and source of information. Not to mention I get have a genuine conversation with someone, _and_ get complain to them. Having friends is fun.

We go back to class together and Hana-chan offers to make an excuse for me to the teachers. I gather my things and gratefully accept the offer. My mood lifts up so much that I even shoot the irresponsible and annoying Kyoko-chan a smile before leaving, though the smile is more to please my friend Hana-chan than my constant headache Kyoko-chan. Once I get out of Namimori middle, I remove my school jacket and then wrap it around the slyly pocketed morphine bottles. Once they are tightly secure, the cushioned bottles are carefully paced in my backpack then my backpack in my bicycle basket before taking off. Today is a good day.

* * *

><p><em>October 21st<em>

Outside of a small clinic named Nakayama Surgery, which was closed two weeks ago according to Dee, my cousin and I stand with a large cardboard box full of white chrysanthemum. The white flowers are for Lambo, and the white cardboard box they are carried in is for his soon to be stolen bazooka. Kyoko-chan called me in hysterics today and cried of Lambo's accident as well as where he is resting. She recommended that I visit him, as if it would somehow help. Apparently, the story is that after Lambo's umbrella was hit by lighting, he fell down a very large slope. The poor thing is in a comma, or, as Alana put it, a particularly restful sleep that is advantageous to us. I'm to serve as the distraction for at least five minuets. A difficult task, but I accept.

My cousin and I lock gazes, our brown eyes checking for appropriate amounts of sympathy on our faces. Nodding to each other, we enter the suspicious clinic and find the reception room containing a single female receptionist, who points us to the first door on our left. Alana gets the door and opens it the sight of a pretty woman with soft features sitting on the bed side of a beat up Lambo. Her expression contains a smile, but her large brown eyes contain worry. Kyoko-chan told be she is Tsunayoshi Sawada's mother and currently takes care of the children.

"Hello Sawada Nana-san." We greet in harmony while bowing our heads.

Sawada-san stands up quickly with a flustered expression. "Oh, hello. You must be Fernandez-san."

Kyoko-san probably told her about me. I nod and introduce Alana as my cousin, Desma Fernandez. Sawada-san politely greets us both, and then we offer the flowers. The woman instantly likes us. Her big eyes light up in appreciation and her warm voice welcomes us in. No one else is in the room, so I politely request a word with Sawada-san outside. "I'll set up the flowers," Dee offers kindly, taking a few steps toward the comatose patient.

As Sawada-san and I leave the room, I deliberately shut the door behind me and lead the older woman down the hall. Close enough I can see if someone is coming towards the room, far away enough I can't hear what is going on side the room. With a drawn out breath, I bow my head low and zealously shout, "I need to apologize!"

The woman shakes in surprise. Standing up straight, I look her directly in the eye and begin my improv show. "The other night when my and the girls were playing with the children we lost them in the mall. This was all do to my lack of focus!"

"Oh, dear," She says kindly. "Kids wander off easily. It was no ones fault."

"But it was Sawada-san. It was my responsibility to look after them while they were in my care and I failed that responsibility. The fault is mine."

Sawada-san and I go back and forth for a minute, she telling me not to worry so much. In exchange I claim guilt and responsibility. She is gently holding my shoulders, assuring me that I'm not at fault when she says the stupidest words ever. "Kids often get lost, it's completely fine."

At those words I glance at her sharply. Fool. "Anything could have happened to them," I point out, barely containing my argumentative tone. "They could have been run over in the streets, kidnapped by evil men, attacked by a vicious dog. Anything or all of this could have happened due to my lack of supervision."

My statement shocks her, so I quickly rectify myself and offer to grab a cup of coffee with her. Whether from exhaustion or shock she agrees, and we successfully waste six minutes requesting then receiving coffee from the receptionist. As I received my warm cup, it occurs to me that I dislike coffee. While walking back to the room, I consider asking Sawada-san if she finds the lack of staff and patients suspicious, but then if she thinks that kids are fine when they get lost I already have my answer.

We enter the room and Alana is sitting in the chair next to Lambo with the lidded box in her hands and an annoyed smile on her face. The white flowers line the windows neatly and are gently showered with the seeping light. Sawada-san gushes in thanks, her brown eyes full of sincerity. Alana continues smiling with shiny white teeth. She really doesn't want to be right here now. "Unfortunately, we have to go. " I lie, eager to leave. "There is a roast in the oven."

Alana looks at my ridiculous lie for a second then adds on, "Yeah, we don't want to overcook that thing."

"Of course, Of course. You should always eat a good dinner. I'm sure Bianchi is feeding the kids right now."

We smile out of politeness. That's nice for them, we say before leaving to prepare for tonight's guardian battle. After all, we only have four hours left until the show begins.

* * *

><p><em>October 21st<em>

When Alana successfully picks the lock of my school building, I applaud with genuine awe. She spent two hours at home practicing, locking doors then picking them open. I'm proud to say after so much practice, my cousin is a skillful unofficial locksmith. I'm sure she could break into anyone's house. Dee promises to help me learn the skill tomorrow. _'If you can pick a lock. Anything is open to you. Cars, homes, safes, anything. You can hide anywhere and seek anything.'_

She grins like a Cheshire cat in pride and then struts through the school while beckoning me to follow. Carelessly, I skip behind her. There is no need to worry yet or be particularly sneaky. The fight won't start for two more hours, and even the Cervello have yet to arrive. Not to mention I've got a secret weapon in the front pocket of my hoodie, and Alana's got a special eavesdropping device for the battle. This night is destined to be easy.

We are in the main building, the one that greets you as you walk through Nami-middle's gates. The school building which just so happens to contain the school records.

The first thing we do is break into the teacher's lounge and begin tampering with my grades and attendances. I figure that if we are breaking into the school, punishable by expulsion and arrest, we might as well boost my grades while we are at it. Only the light of our flashlights shows the average grades turning into above average grades. I ignore the comments of my high school drop out cousin about how I'd get good grades if I studied. Studying isn't fun therefore it is not necessary. Besides the only thing I really need to learn here is Japanese, and I _do_ study for that.

While filling out the last form and updating the last page, a noisy bustling echoes through the school. My cousin looks alert, her dark eyes skipping to the closed door across the room. Instantaneously my hands log off then turn off the computer in front of me. Our flashlight clicks off. The room goes black. Blind, but not deaf, we continue to listen to the noisy bustling and its echoes. Something heavy is being transported upstairs, into one of the rooms above us. I remain seated in my home-room teacher's chair and breathe easily and calmly. For a minute there is silence again. The only sounds are that of subtle breathing and the ticking of an unseen clock, but after another minute the busting begins again. The transportation of something heavy carries from the front entrance as a rolling sound then jostling as it is lifted all the way up the stairs, and finally a little more rolling before it stops. Then the whole process is started again. After the fifth time my patience is wearing thin.

Eventually, and I'm ready to jump for joy when it happens, the noise stops altogether. After a whole five minutes of silence, Dee whispers to me it's time to go. We exit the pitch back room for the slightly moonlit hallway. It is a small hallway and clustered with important rooms and offices, but to the side there is the stairs to the next story. Without talking, I follow Alana up to the second floor and into the long murky hallway on the second floor. My cousin's small figure is the only visible part of her, and I pause as it halts. I don't ask for explanation but obediently mimic her movement by freezing myself. After a moment, she quietly says 'let's go,' and begins to zip over to the other side of the lengthy hallway.

Her movements are silent and practiced but keep to my pace. It is a little embarrassing to be the only one with vocal steps, even if the sound is overpowered by the air-conditioning and venting. There is a breath of relief to reach the stairs at the end of the hall and leisurely climb them.

Sure that the Cervello, and maybe others, are on the third floor above us, there is no lack of sneakiness in tiptoeing upstairs. My fearless and calm cousin leads the way, constantly alert for others. And the moment we reach the top, which is completely lit, Dee pulls me inside the closest room before the Cervello can come around the corner and discover us.

The doors slides shut from behind and my brown eyes glance around the almost normal looking classroom. I tilt my head to stare at a metal machine placed in the middle; it looks like a giant vent or something. Well, at least now we know what they were hauling upstairs. "What the fuck?" Alana questions with a harsh look. She eyes the large machine in distaste before going over to it. "They can't just have a normal good ole fight to the death, can they?"

"What are you doing?!" I exclaim in loud whisper as my cousin beings to tinker with the weird contraption. Crouched down in front of one the vented sides, Alana fiddles around with one of the screws using her tiny lock picking set. Her back is to me, and her tied up dark hair is swishing around as she adjusts her head to peak inside the vent.

"Seeing what it is."

I throw her an incredulous glance, slightly outraged that she would dare to mess with it. What if something dangerous happens? What if it has an alarm? Or has motion detectors on it? But I say nothing else as she finally pops off the first screw. I want to know what it is too.

While she works on the rest of the screws and latches, I peak at my cell phone to see the time is fifteen minuets past ten. We were in the teacher's lounge _forever_. Stupid Cervello. I look up to complain, but see my cousin already undoing the last latch. Dee flattens her hands against the falling side and gently has it lowered to the ground beside her. "Fuck, we're getting out of here."

"What is it?" I ask while rushing to her side and glancing inside the machine.

I see it the moment she says it: Time bomb.

Strapped in the middle of the machine is a metal and advanced looking time bomb, equipped with an electronic count down watch and everything. Fuck, we're getting out of here. In a hurry, I help Alana (who is not smiling) place the side back onto the bomb's box and tap my foot impatiently as she screws everything back on while mumbling under her breath. I hear a few English curse words but can only agree. Fucking Vongola, why ya gotta go get bombs involved? Don't ya know that shit is dangerous?

Much to my chagrin, Dee feels the need to spend more time by the life-threatening bomb by taking a picture of it. "Let's go!" I usher in a whisper.

With a roll of her dark eyes, she ignores my plea for urgency and keeps a relaxed stance. Her shoulders are slanted down in nonchalance.

"We are going to roof." Alana proclaims while looking me straight in the eyes.

I return her staring with equal intensity and a small smile. "So long as it is not the roof immediately above the bombs."

She lightly laughs, for an assassin such as herself is not easily alarmed even by bombs, and raises her manicured hands in assurances. Her fake nails are glossy and long. "No need to worry there, we'll go to where the lighting battle just took place."

So she also noticed to that the parallel building across is unlit when we were traveling up here. Most likely the bombs are only in the lit rooms and are there for the sake of the upcoming Vongola battle, so that roof should probably be safe. With a nod, I shuffle after her through the classroom and sliding door. We make no noise, not even as the wooden door shuts and continue making no noise when sneaking down stairs and back to the front building and then up to the roof. It's almost uncomforting that so much time has passed and Dee has yet to crack a joke.

We make ourselves comfortable on the roof across of the lit hallway, with me lying down and stargazing, and my cousin fiddling with her new spy toy. All that's missing is a plaid picnic blanket and some snacks; if only for that, this little outing would be perfectly compete. A few moments of peace pass then, Alana-very strangely- begins _chatting_ to me about going to see a movie next week. She is not proclaiming, declaring, announcing, or aggressively suggesting like her normal take charge self. No, she is idling chatting like an average person. I look away from the star speckled sky to her hunched back. Though tempted to ask what is wrong, I am way more tempted by the idea of the free movie (it's one I particularly want to see). Besides, my cousin has never met a situation she couldn't survive. I give in to temptation and happily agree to catch a flick with her. Dee then tells me she has to go away again for work. But only for a day or so. My cousin doesn't look at me as she says this. Dee is too busy setting up some kind of far range eavesdropping device.

"Or so?" I question while playing with the narrow binoculars she got me. They match her pair.

Alana shrugs, the blue baseball-T shifting around her form. "Probably just a night."

I roll my eyes. The life of an assassin.

We settle back into nighttime silence and enjoy the small pleasures of an October evening. Minimum bugs, maximum moonlight, and a brisk wind. It last for only a few moments until the pleasant evening is slaughtered. "Varia is here," My cousin tells me causally, as if reporting on the weather. There are no leather clad men around us, just an empty school roof.

_Tell that to your shivering spine._

"But wouldn't the Varia be able to completely erase their presence?" I say as the thought occurs to me. With a sigh, I fold my hands behind my head and cross my ankles. The night is quiet, the gentle bustling of wind, the cricketing of crickets, and rattling of roof fences. No obvious footsteps.

Alana turns around and hands me a pair of plastic black headphones before responding. "They can erase enough so that I don't sense them. However, the subordinates with them are not as skilled. They're crawling all over the place."

I snigger and take the cheap black headphones, the cord is connected to what looks like a bulky mp3 player with a tubular microphone on top. "Sounds like an infestation."

Alana sprawls out on her stomach and puts on her own headphones. "Yeah, an infestation of roaches maybe."

Her hair is black in the lighting and splaying against her back despite being partially tied up. Her dark eyes disappear under her eyelids and a tranquil expression appears. Without looking, Dee flips the device on and vicarious sound floods in. The Cervello idling tell that the other participants have yet to arrived and must do so in ten minutes.

Alana turns so that her right cheek rests against her folded hands and her brown eyes are fixed upon my own. "Dude, my helicopter just came in. I'm gonna fly it tonight."

"Do you know how to fly a helicopter?"

With a lackadaisical air, she brushes off my concern with a confident smile . "It's easier than driving."

She totally doesn't know how. But then didn't the great L from Death Note say it was easy? So maybe there is no need to worry. "Be careful then."

With a cheeky grin, she rectifies my idea of her ignorance on helicopter operating and elaborately explains to me how to pilot one. After her lengthy explanation, that is of course laced with jokes and puns, I ask her why she needs a helicopter. With a smirk on her face, she explains "Because my job requires my to often fly away and I rather use my own means than somebody else's."

The image of a helicopter frequently flying off from our house, and the bewildered face of the Namimori residences, pop into my head. How would we explain that? Watching my cousin, who oozes with strength and confidence, I realize it doesn't matter. Alana doesn't need to explain herself to anyone. No one can bind her, she is too independent and too strong. Even this boss, Jones, probably won't last for long.

"Today's match is indoors?" Comes Sawada-san's voice from the headphones. Other voices begin droning too, taking about Gokudera-san and his absences. If he doesn't show up by 11:00 o'clock then he is disqualified. I'm not worried though. He wouldn't bail or punk out of the battle like a loser. No, cool kids don't do that.

An explosion crackles through the headphones. He's here.

"Sorry for the long wait Tenth! Gokudera Hayato has arrived!"

I grin, utterly impressed. Even if he got here at the last second, even if it cost him his life, he would come to fight. Because if there is one thing cool kids never do, it is let down people who matter to you. And Gokudera-san will never let anyone down. With a dreamy grin and gently closed eyes, I indulge in fantasies of our could be life together. Of me riding on the back of his motorcycle while he races down the road, of him introducing me to cool foreign music and taking me out to an underground concert. He would have an arm slung around my shoulder, a subtle sign of possessiveness. And with a blush, I visualize a steamy make-out scene.

In my haze of happiness and delusion, I vaguely register the instruction of the battle. Something about a fight to the death and an exploding hurricane turbines.

With a giggle, I continue with thoughts of the school bad boy and mine romantic relationship. Our rebellion of authority and outrage with society will draw us together. We are the next Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. Wild and free and oh so cool.

But the good flow stops upon the word 'Shamal'. I listen closely to the sounds from headphone, as a mysterious, mature, yet young voice explains, "Trident Shamal...Rumor is that he was to be recruited by the Varia two generations ago—Varia meant to gain him, but he refused."

My perverted and utterly irresponsible school doctor is actually a high profile assassin, wanted by the best. Yeah, I am so not turning him in to the faculty. Thanks, but no thanks Hana-chan.

"What the hell are you doing here!" shouts Gokudera-san, clearly having an informal relationship to the school nurse. I listen carefully as the Doctor explains, in such a false nonchalant way, that he was worried upon hearing the windows also came to Gokudera-san's match in jest. The pieces clicked in my head, why they were together eairler today, his words, and the similar haircuts. They are teacher and student, assassin and disciple. My conclusion is confirmed when Doctor Shamal proclaims that he is on this (the young Vongola's) side.

I continue listening attentively as Superbi Squalo, who has a completely recognizable voice by volume alone, comments on all these skilled people (Dino, Collonello, and Shamal) rushing to the young Vongola's side. I force myself to remember this information, to ingrain it into my heart. The tingle of my gut warns me it is useful. It is valuable.

Unfortunately, the conversation steers to a less than interesting direction about group morale. I lazily gaze at the stars, watching them glitter with a vague interest, while the young Vongola convince Gokudera-san to form a team circle. I don't blame him for not wanting to do something so embarrassing, it would be preferable to receive a face punch. Alas, when Sawada-san sweetly asks for his cooperation, so that they will fight together as a team even when battling separately, Gokudera-san happily agrees. Maybe they really are gay lovers after all.

"Let this join too," A young squeaky voice piques in. Who is taking, and what is 'this'? "This is the cloth that fell from that dumb cow's tail when he was battling yesterday."

Well aren't they full of team spirit. Even apart they are together. Maybe Lambo's family really does care for him after all.

The same squeaky voice jibes, "Doesn't it remind you of the days when that dumb cow was around?"

"Pah!" I laugh out, simultaneously with Alana. Our laughter travels too far, but we continue heckling anyways. Asshole humor, our favorite. "_Who_ is that?" I ask with laughter still in my voice. "Who is the asshole of the group?"

"DON'T SAY IT AS IF HE WERE DEAD!" Bellows Sawada-san's voice anxiously. Our laughter multiplies, and the stars continue to shine in the sky above. The boy below agrees to have Lambo there in spirit. I recognize the voices of Yamamoto-san and Sasagawa-san, the easy going melody and loud hoarseness are easy to find. "**GOKUDERA FIGHT!OHH!**"

The Cervello immediately tell the fighting guardians to come to the middle after the chant and explain that there will be cameras in every class room watching the match, and the match will be watched from the bleachers. Also, to prevent interference, an infrared sensor device will separate the bleachers from the battle area. No voices interrupt the Cervello, but when they finish a creepy, high pitch, drawl beings floating though our speakers. So happy, so helpful, so harmless, 'Don't be so nervous' he sings. It's the voice of carefree liar.

"An experienced lying assassin against Gokudera-san, who do you think will win?" I ask while looking to my mafia informed cousin. She glances at me, her brown eyes hiding away many thoughts. "I haven't anything great about Smoking Bomb Hayato. But I've heard many a great things about Prince the ripper."

'Oh' I mouth in gentle surprise. So my crush is going to die tonight...what a shame.

The Cervello say the match begins, but my conversation with Alana began first. I ignore the happenings of the fight to continue the talk.

"So," I start. It's probably a good thing to inform her about the assassin in disguise of school authority. "Trident Shamal is my school nurse. And he _constantly_ hits on me."

She chuckles and claims to be unsurprised. With a grin, I go on about how he gives me passes and helps me dip out of class all the time. Recounting all of our little stories, from me barging in the first day with the excuse of a stomachache to me getting comfortable enough to come visit at the slightest hint of boredom. The Nurse's office has become a home away from home; I'm pretty sure there are a few of my belongings waiting for me under the infirmary bed. Dee is far from impressed and blatantly tells me Shamal just wants what is between my tightly crossed legs. Then adds on "He definitely wants to motor boat the shit out of you."

"Or flip my skirt," I suggest innocently.

"He likes to rip panties off girls too." She tops, saying the line as casually as I did.

My shoulders shrug and with an equal caviler attitude, I comment, "What a perv."

Explosions from the building across from us, draw away our attention, the noise echoes in our earpieces. Unlike the sound of bombs which had been infrequently going on, this was most likely the sound of those extreme ventilation hurricane turbine shafts. Hearing the intense noise from both the head phones, and from the actual sound across the yard, I feel grateful not to be in Gokudera-san's place. Those Vongola are just too extreme.

The windows shatter to the ground and audibly splatter glass everywhere. I make a note of myself to watch out for glass tomorrow; better make sure Hana-chan stays away from the area too.

As the hurricane turbines rage on, comments and shouts are lost to the rampaging wind. Minutes fly by with nothing but the wind, then it stops sporadically for a few moments of time. Moments enough to hear Gokudera-san explain his opponent's tricks of knives and wires, which had been efficiently kicking his ass. Moments enough to hear that Gokudera-san obtained a special technique to conquer Prince the Ripper's tricks, which should efficiently kick the Prince the Ripper's ass. But the wind comes in tides, and I'm not naïve enough to think Gokudera-san will actually win this fight. Soon after all sounds are smothered by the roaring hurricane turbines. All sounds but an insane hissing laughter. Harmonic wind and crackling leak through my earpieces.

"It's blood!~~~! It's blood of the royal clan!~~~!"

"What the fuck?" I question, appalled by Prince the Ripper's insanity.

I look over to Alana who is smirking to herself, clearly in on some private joke. "Shit is about to get real. This kid goes nuts when he sees his own blood."

I curiously ask why and receive a lovely fairy tale about two twin  
>princes, living in a life of absolute luxury. They were both handsome and smart and incredibly talented. Then once upon a time, as the servants and king and queen slept, the younger prince visited his brother to play a game. A game called dodge my knife. Alas, the older twin died upon losing the game. And that night Prince Belphagor, later to be known as Prince the Ripper, fell fatally in love. He fell in love with sight of his brother's blood, of his blood. He loves it so much that upon first glance of that glorious royal blood, he goes insane and unleashes his cruelty and true strength at ten fold. The End. (for his opponent at least)<p>

What a beautiful story of brotherly love.

"**The Hurricane turbines' self-destruction will occur in 6 minutes.**"

The explosions and shouts of pain continue crackling in my headphone, causing a smile. Fights to the death are sort of exciting. Even if it is my crush that is destined to die.

The turbines' pause and Sawada-san's yelling can be heard; he's begging Gokudera-san to run. A high mysterious voice informs Sawada-san, and indirectly everyone else, that he can't. "It's difficult to see on the monitor, however, his surroundings have already been completely swathed in razor sharp wires."

"So it was the knives after all..." The voice is Doctor Shamal's. I note that Doctor Shamal has been suspecting the trick, meaning his intelligence is nothing to scoff at.

"The wire was looped through the small loops in the knives. This is also the kamaitachi." Explains a young voice. The tone is too intelligent to be immature.

"This way, 2 methods of cutting are created...The first is to throw the knives. Even if we think the attack has been dodged, if the trajectory even curves toward the target the wires attached to those knives will slice into the target. The second method is to construct a set-up...By embedding the knives in the wall, the wires become an invisible cutting instrument. He threw the knives to defuse Hayato's bombs before entering the library for a reason. In other words, this was all a trap set by that guy. Knives aren't his only weapon, knives and wire are the two prongs of his attack."

The mysterious high voice speaks again. His tone is victorious, bordering on boasting. "Everything was according to his plan. Not just gifted in terms of physical skills, but also a talented tactician. That's why Bel is called a genius."

"Shishishi. Checkmate." Prince the Ripper hisses.

A pause of silence occurs, rousing my curiosity of Gokudera-san's state of life. Then Basil-san's voice comes through the monitor, with a perky tone, "The scattered gunpowder is acting as a fuse!"

If it's gunpowder than Gokudera-san must have found a way to live by somehow trapping his opponent with gunpowder from his bombs. Explosions begin to erupt, crackling in the headsets, and I flinch from erratic frequency. My crush's voice speaks to me, though it seems a whisper through the speakers. "If the strings are slack, then they can't cut now, can they? And as for the destinations of these bombs, let's use your wires as guides. With this I can push through to win. This is the Guardian of storm's attack of raging waves."

Waves of explosions crackle together, flooding out the sounds again. "It's over."

"**Incorrect. Until the completely ring of storm is obtained, a win cannot be recognized. Please reunite both halves of the ring and create the complete ring of storm**."

"Keh. So annoying." Complains Gokudera-san, shrugging off his victory with teenage grumbling.

"**3 minutes remaining."**

"Gokudera-kun!" shout Sawada-san and Basil-san anxiously. What impatient kids; I would have thought Basil-san had better manners.

"Getting that dizzy from that degree of blood loss..." Chides Doctor Shamal. "Come on, come on. Get it over with and we'll drink a toast. Ah, yes, call up Bianchi-chan too."

"What the hell are you saying at a time like this!? You ero old man..."

"What an idiotic face...Genius. Don't make me laugh. I'd really like to make you take them back, all those disrespectful things you said about Tenth. But... Seems like I was able to be a little useful."

"The winner will be me!" Screams the Prince.

"Why, you!" Shouts Gokudera-san, as startled as I am by the sudden comeback.

"Is Bel still not done?" "No, he's probably moving under instinct to win. The instinct of a prince to reject failure." "It's getting clearer and clearer just how weird that guy is."

"Gokudera-kun!" Shouts Sawada-san, unnerved by his friend's inhuman opponent. Gokudera-san seems unnerved too, and audibly question Prince the Ripper's sense of self-preservation. I'm sure no one missed the of panic.

("Ring!")

"**The appointed time has arrived."**

"**As previously stated, 15 minutes after the start of the battle, the hurricane turbines will begin to self-destruct in a sequential manner. The library's estimated time of destruction will arrive in about one minute. Of course, the audience area will not be affected**."

Then the bombs detonated. Slowly, one after another.

"No..No way~~! If this goes on, Gokudera-kun will...!"

"He will die with the enemy." The immature, but deadly serious, voice states as another bomb booms.

"What the hell are you doing octopus head!? Hurry up!" "Shut up! I'm working on it!" "Gua!" A clatter of books must have fallen on Gokudera-san. Soon after there comes an explosion from the bombs.

("Ring!")

"No good..he is losing strength due to blood loss...If it goes on like this, no good will come of it." Shamal analyzes, his tone regretful and frustrated. As the third bomb come to pass, I silently give my sympathies and condolences.

"**15 seconds have passed, there are 45 seconds remaining."**

"So, a game of chicken. Isn't that more interesting?" The loud mouth Varia leader muses.

"Tsuna, what should be done?" The same mysterious voice inquired calmly, a clever attempt to prompt leadership from my inept classmate. Why does he want my unfit classmate to act a leader?

("Ring!")

"There's nothing for it." Shamal shouts, "Hand the ring over to the enemy and withdraw, Hayato! To die for something like this would be idiotic. Get back here."

"You've gotta be kidding! How can I let myself lose? With one win and three loses we'd have our backs against the walls! It would be a critical loss!" Gokudera cries, panic and determination coloring his voice. He ignores Shamal's reasoning of a pointless match, sure that someone who comes back empty handed is unworthy of beingTenth's right hand man. But then, I silently muse, why doesn't he kill Belphagor? Slit his throat then grab the ring?

I toss the idea out upon hearing Sawada-san protest. These kids are unwilling to sacrifice an ally for their goal, they are probably unwilling to kill an enemy too. Yet, this mentality is _so_ unmafioso like.

("Ring! Ring!")

"Tenth, if I win we will have the advantage! Please leave it to me! For something like that, I...!"

Gokudera-san, if you would stop chatting and started killing then you could have walked away with the ring a while ago.

"Gokudera-kun!" "Octopus head, come back here!"

"**There are twenty seconds remaining until the library's destruction.**"

"Hayato! Did you forget what you learned when you started the training!?" Shamal yells in fury.

A pause. "Even if I die, I won't withdraw!"

("Ring!")

"Stop Joking Around! Have you thought about what you are fighting for!?" Then he, my clumsy classmate Sawada-san, who cannot understand Gokudera-kun's willingness to be sacrificed or even this Mafioso lifestyle, goes on a tirade of their goals. A litany of happy memories come from his mouth in an angry chiding yell. For them strength is for the sake of protecting their happiness, and how can there be happiness without Gokudera-kun?

It's only a few seconds later the library explodes.

Booms and Bangs fill my ears, but even then voices clearly call out for Gokudera-san. None call for the Prince.

"Look over there," calls a childish voice, not the young voice of whose name I'm searching.

"Gokudera-kun!" "Octopus head!" "Gokudera!"

"I'm sorry...Tenth...The ring was taken. I wanted to see the fireworks again, so I came back..."

"Thank goodness Gokudera-kun...I'm really glad..!" Sawada-san says while breathing a sigh of relief. When Gokudera-san is mortified by his losing, ashamed and hurt, no one mocks him or kills him, Instead Sawada-san thanks him, grateful that his friend is alive to make many more memories.

"Please stop! I'm not worthy of those words!" Gokudera-san cries with shame. Then he turns to Yamamoto-san and begrudgingly request that he wins. "I-If I had a choice I wouldn't be asking you anything." he states, attempting but failing to keep his pride. "It's just that there are no other options left, so.." His words drift off, insecure and embarrassed. Yamamoto-san accepts cheerily.

Alana lets out a disappointed moan and rolls back to her stomach. "That was a lame ending." She laments with a crossed look. Her brow scrunches and winkles with a frown.

"**Since the ring of storm was obtained by Belphegor, the victory of this match goes to the Varia**."

Dee cruelly laughs as Squalo proclaims the young Vongola's lives are guttering like candles in the wind. Then in a similar tone to his, mocks, "Was that supposed to be an attempt at being poetic?" I giggle along with her, agreeing that Superbi Squalo lacks the glib tongue of a true poet. Though perhaps his words would sound smoother if they weren't constantly shouted.

"**Then, I will announce the match-up for the next battle."**

"What should we do, Reborn?! If its the mist or cloud battle then...!" Sawada-san worries. I sorta worry for him too, what boss doesn't have a whole crew?

_Reborn._ Now I've got a name.

"Don't worry." Says that childish voice again, Reborn. But as suspected, the voice holds more authority than that of a child. Especially if this 'baby' is guiding the Vongola heir. "Everyone will come together in due time."

"**Tomorrow's nights battle will be the battle between the guardians of Rain.**"

"I've been waiting for this moment. I can finally have some real fun!" Squalo sounds ruthless with hardy laughter and bloodlust. "Don't you dare runaway just because you remembered the overwhelming difference in strength from last time Katana brat."

"Hahaha." laughs Yamamoto-san's voice. The laugh is slow and low, a deliberate sound. "Don't worry." He assures, a drop of conceit hiding in his words. "I'm so excited I won't be able to sleep."

To him Superbi Squalo is someone to play with? Isn't he the confident guy, even after witnessing what Squalo's weaker consorts did to his friends. Is he so much better?

"Why you little..." growls Squalo; he understands the implication.

A blast appears from the wall and someone yells, "Please excuse the intrusion! Levi-taichou! Someone has breached the perimeter of the school building. The Levi thunder unit is being picked off one by one!" He named his squad 'the Levi thunder unit'? How lame. Alana quickly sits up and watches the scene unfold with her binoculars, so I do the same. Leviathan is in disbelief and it plainly shows on his face, though his comrades next to him look more curious then bemused.

"Didn't I say so?" Reborn reminds, cocky and triumphant. "Everyone will come together in due time."

"Eh?" Questions some idiot, probably Sawada-san, one who clearly doesn't understand the tides have turned to the younger candidates favor with this new appearance.

"Levi-taichou! The unknown intruder is heading straight in this direction!" informs another subordinate. The Varia begins buzzing with excitement, Leviathan wants answerers, the floating child wants amusement, and Superbi Squalo clearly wants a fight. But I have the feeling Superbi Squalo always wants to fight.

"What... What's happening?" Sawada-san questions, sounding confused. Is this guy really a mafia boss? It's clear just from listening that one of his guardian's is hunting down people in the school.

"It's seems there is something coming this way..." Basil-san says, his voice clearly portraying pondering.

"He's back from training." Explains Reborn, leaving everyone curious as to who 'he' is. Another ring guardian clearly, and a particular strong one is he knocking off the Varia members (albeit, lower ranked) as if they are bugs to squashed. My binoculars are painfully pressed against my face in anticipation, watching the hallway entrances, and goosebumps rise upon my body.

A groan comes as a member of the Levi thunder unit is thrown into the clearance. A heartbeat later this mysterious and battle fierce attacker enters too. My eyes widen at the sight of the President of Namimori middle's Disciplinary committee. The young domineering man that politely and firmly commanded me only a few days before looks exactly the same. His head is held high and posture straight, his steps are deliberate and graceful, as if he wears prestige on his sleeve in the form of that committee arm band. And not a speck of dirt on his properly worn clothing too. Such a responsible and mature student, to think he is caught up in this mafia mess. As a Vongola guardian no less, if Reborn's hinting is true.

"Hibari-san!" shouts Sawada-san in relief. "Hibari-san...He's here! He really came to join in the scramble battle for the rings...That invincible Hibari-san!"

This is the first time I've heard the name the Disciplinary Committee's President: Hibari. And he's considered invincible?

"Unlawfully breaking into the school and, moreover, vandalizing the premises. By reason of joint responsibility everyone here will be bitten to death."

His voice is calm and final, so proper, so appropriate. They are Mafioso after all. They deserve to be punished for there crimes and cruel deeds by the hammer of justice. Though perhaps biting them together (a personal catch phrase?) seems a bit extreme for their supposed charges. After all, I'm guilty of those charges too. And then there is the fact he is about to punish his comrades too. "Is it time to leave?" I whisper to Alana while pulling the hood of my black jacket over my head.

"Uh, hold on." She says, her voice laced with amusement. A giant grin slides onto her face and she continues her stare at Hibari-san. "I wanna stay for this."

The voices across from us break out over his appearance, and eventually Leviathan attacks in retaliation for him destroying his squad. However, Hibari-san just sidesteps him then hold his foot out. Momentum does the rest as the lame Varia leader crashes to the grounds in disgrace. "Then I'll start with you." Hibari-san decides lifting up a tonfa.

"Oh~Ohh~~ How cool~~~" Doctor Shamal and I praise teasingly, impressed and amused by my senior's antics. We always did have the same condescending attitude, it's why we got along so well. Maybe I should forgive the skirt flipping after all.

While the junior high guardians either grumble or praise our Namimori discipline committee president, Reborn-san formally introduces him in a wary but pleased tone. "That's our guardian of cloud, Nami junior high's committee president Hibari Kyoya."

"Now we go." Alana announces, and we pull out the earplugs, stuff them in her black leather bag and take off. With no one around, we run down the hallway without interference and are almost able to reach front exist before my cousin signals for us to split up. Two fingers indicate for me to take a side exit and I obediently listen. After the runs in we've already had, it is clear hesitation is not an option. I burst open the stair-way doors, rushing with adrenaline, and go face first in to someone's chest.

My heart skips a beat at how well built the person is under his sweatshirt, top-shape. Looking up an Italian man with blonde hair, who in any other situation would have been handsome, looks down at me with a questioning face and clear hazel eyes. Those eyes aren't nearly as innocent as Basil-san's were.

For the second time today, I burst into tears. With loud sobs and a constricted throat I feel my way into a pocket. The young man asks, in an accent just like Basil-san's, what is wrong and how he can help. Crying and streaming with tears, I proceed to lift the small morphine bottle out of my pocket and spray into his strong hazel eyes. I yelp in panic and whirl around the young man as he clutches his eyes and hunches over. "Boss!" A suited and much older man behind him rushes past me, and I run down the exist instantly. Without thinking, I hop over the stair guardrails fluidly and am outside before I can properly breathe. That's three stories.

What a badass, I dazedly think while storming toward the front gates at a new found speed. Everything blurs but the furious beating of my heart, and the next thing I know I'm at the train station and every part of me is sore and my stomach is about to heave. "Uouh!" I gag, keeping in my stomach's context and collapsing on the closet bench. With exhausted breaths, my body sinks lower in lower into tiredness and my head spins. Or have I been spinning this whole time and just now stopped?

"You made it here before me?" Peaking open an eye, my confused cousin (when did she arrive?) stares at me strangely. "What happened to you?"

I say nothing, unable to comprehend her words.

Her brown eyes glance slightly to my right and she mentions my hand. Raising said-hand I stare at it in wonder. Shards of brown glass and streams of morphine and blood run down it, torn flush grotesquely ripped and barely hanging, other cuts just dripping, while most run like a faucet. The palm is alien to me covered in so much glass and blood and medicine. I think back to the blur of time, the incredible speed and extraordinary stair case maneuvers.

"I don't know," answerer honestly, voice hoarse. Then I proceed to throw up onto the ground next me.

"Ew."

* * *

><p>Assholes &amp; Idiots » reviews<p>

"It's usually the most curious who are the most evil. And birds of a feather flock together." "Then what does that make us?" "Curious." OC story.

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! - Rated: T - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 7 - Words: 39,354 - Updated: 6-25-13 - Published: 10-1-11 - T. Yamamoto & Tsuyoshi Y./Yamamoto's Father


	9. October 22nd

_October 22nd_

The sun basks lightly upon Hana-chan and I as we sit eating ice cream in the brisk afternoon. The pretty young brunette has called me several times today, questioning my absence at school and offering to deliver my homework. And so, once I awoke from my morphine-laced sleep, I called back my considerate classmate and talked her into a date. I was still slightly disoriented at first, vaguely remembering Dee's white bathroom sink stained with my blood, red drops splattering everywhere on the marble surface, running down my arms in streams, and watching the ceiling as shards of glass were pulled from my skin, the slight pinch and pull I couldn't fully feel. There was talk, strange whispered arguments between Dee and me that I can't quite remember.

Two hours later from awakening, after getting showered and dressed (difficult, with a cut up and bandaged up right hand), Hana-chan and I sit together munching on cold, sweet vanilla ice-cream. The fall weather of Namimori pleasantly comforts me and raises my spirits with its chilled air and clear skies. It seems as good as time as any to sit outside in front an ice cream parlor and chat with a friend. 'A _friend_,' I think excitedly.

Changed into posh clothing, expensive jeans as well as a silk blue blouse, Hana-chan seems as cool and grown-up as ever. With a natural grace, her body shifts into another august position, and I find myself slightly envious of the elegant curve of her back. Never has someone sat before me in such an exquisite and dignified manner. "You look so pretty today Hana-chan." I marvel with a cavalier tone. A playful smirk accompanies my remark and it seems to amuse my friend.

She politely repays me for the compliment with one of her own, a mention about my cool and causal clothing. Wearing my lucky blue jeans and a clingy but impossibly complimenting thin, black long sleeve shirt, I feel like an extreme badass. Like someone who robs banks then meets her cool older boyfriend for lunch right after. But then, that may just be me walking around with a suspiciously bandaged up hand talking. As people eye me while walking down the street, I just shoot them a cool kid smirk and proudly toss my head, leaving them wondering about my untold story.

"What exactly happened to your hand?" My friend questions with a leery look.

Those sharp gray eyes capture mine, and I allow it. "Smashed a bottle," I explain. "But my cousin says it will heal in a few days."

She accepts this answer with a thoughtful nod before advising me to be more careful. Then she jokes, "I can't wait to hear what kind of rumors this stirs up at school. 'T_he lone wolf with a suspiciously bandaged hand_.'"

"Lone wolf?" I inquire with a hint of a smile. Please let this be a badass nickname I have at school and am just now finding out about.

She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "You didn't know? They call you the lone wolf since you talk to no one, associate with no one, and have interest in no one. Kyoko-chan just thought you were shy but others figure you have a solitary nature. You come off unapproachable."

So in other words I'm the class badass? Got to love Japanese schools.

"What do you think Hana-chan?" I ask lightly.

She replies, "You probably just think America is much cooler."

Her words, though not exactly accurate, prompt me to pour out opinions I was unaware of. "America is wilder, at least the it is in the state I come from. And so wild is in my nature, which clashes a bit in comparison to Japan." Realizing how rude it may sound, I attempt to explain further. "Your etiquette is beautiful, but I'm a stubborn and proud person which is taken much better in my homeland. In fact, some even consider it endearing and useful. Americans enjoy a crazy fight and a crazy party, at least they do where I come from. The country is a melting pot of sorts, so it really depends on where you go."

My patriotic, if not melodramatic, speech seems to interest Hana-chan. She quickly asks me what I think of Japan, to which I reply its like 'living in a manga'. Her expression crumples into absolute disappointment. I lick away at my ice cream, and give away a few more Japan-centered compliments, remarking among the beauty and discipline which I've found here. My friend gives me a knowing smile and explains some of the finer points of her culture and country as well as Japan's major problems (in her opinion). Composure, precision, dedication, sophistication. Stubborn, weird, harsh.

Much to my pleasure, Hana-chan is quite the romantic soul despite her mature appearance. She wishes to study overseas, have a mature musician lover, and travel the world in style. 'The heart will lead and the body will follow.'

"What about you?"

I grin, "What about me?"

"What are your dreams for the future?"

I pause for half a second, wondering if bluntly saying I have no future dreams is all right. Perhaps my current life, coasting through middle school and living with my assassin cousin in luxury, is enough. Until this lifestyle ends and drifts into a different and unforeseen future, I just want to continue enjoying my time with Dee and continue seeking our shared amusements. But then considering our current amusement is watching the Vongola's ring scramble, I may not have a future.

"I have no future." I pause, realizing what my statement implies. "Dreams. I have no future dreams."

Hana-chan apprises me for the lackadaisical attitude toward the future, but I breezily blow her off. The sailing is fairer when floating down the stream of life without a destination, or some such nonsense. Either way, there is no ten year bazooka being blown in my face so the future isn't an immediate concern. And even if it was I would only have to be concerned for all of five minutes. Hana-chan gives me a look that I playfully return, and we erupt into chuckles and giggles. Her light laughter is more delicate than my cousin's, and reminds me of how fragile my flowery friend is in comparison.

"Oh, watch out for glass Hana-chan. When I was coming home the other day I think I spotted some in the school's courtyard."

She nods in thanks of my warning when the poetic lyrics of a favorite song begin playing from my right jean pocket. I bumble around for the phone with my uninjured and uncoordinated left hand and manage to pick up before the song ends. I give the pretty girl across from me an apologetic arm gesture, awkward for me with one busy hand and another unusable one yet apparently amusing for her, then greet my cousin through the plastic blue phone.

"Howdy. Where are you?"

With a proud smile, I inform Alana that I am with my friend, Hana-chan. "Oh, Hana-chan," she says as if realizing something obvious., as if she knows who Hana-chan is. I've never told her about Hana-chan before; until now, we functioned under the basis that I had no friends besides her. This is her que to ask, but she doesn't. "That's cool. Well I'm just letting you know that I'm here." Then she continues with a cheery and strained tone, "And it really fucking freaked me out that you weren't here."

I offer to bring her home mint or coffee ice cream; her favorite flavors. She politely declines but claims to accept any chocolate treat nonetheless. I make a note to stop for a sweet treat on my way home. "All right, well I'm going to let you go now. Love you, bye."

Looking up to my recently made friend, Hana-chan has a cross of amusement and admiration dancing among her face. Those normally steely and guarded eyes are relaxed with warmth. She sweetly tells me that I have an endearing relationship with my boyfriend. I blush heatedly and stumble to correct her.

"No! That's my cousin!"

I don't have a boyfriend! Especially not in middle school! What middle school relationship lasts? Besides, guys probably don't look at me like that. Not with my prissy personality and young age.

With a bit of surprise, she explains most people here aren't as affectionate with their family. She tells me more things, such as kisses are usually reserved for lovers, Kimonos are usually for the winter, girls always carry around a handkerchief, and that modestly and politeness are necessary for every lady.

I bluntly tell her that arrogance and pride are more amusing than insulting in America. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction, and I smirk with her. Her arragance can be spotted in that gleam but mine is only hinted out in the slight turn of my pink lips. We silently bond over unspoken pride, and quietly revel in need to shine our wonderful arrogance.

"You would fit in _so_ well in America." I say, meaning every single word.

The flattery causes a fair pink to bloom upon Hana-chan's cheeks, and her thick black lashes flutter down for a second so she may properly soak in the compliment. Our conversation carries on for nearly half an hour, discussing our classmates, our lives, and our opinions. Time flies as I sate myself on the warmth of friendship, of earnestly talking and enjoying myself with someone my own age. I'm smiling and laughing, dizzy with happiness, as Hana-chan and I part from the café. I'm all but skipping down the road, and humming a merry tune when ordering come Nana Chocolate at the local bakery. The walk home, since it's impossible to ride a bike with the current state of my right hand, is utterly endurable and relaxing. I don't even notice the walk up the unreasonable size hill (mountain).

Once I've reached our clearing in the Namimori mountain, I break into a run towards home. The door is unlocked as I rush in, and my words spill out in bunches before the door even gets a chance to fully open. "Alana we need handkerchiefs!" I exclaim excitedly, clumsily shutting the wooden door behind me. My cousin is on the couch, lounging in a blue sweater and jeans. Her dark eyes glance me over for a second before going back to the newest issue of Shounen Jump before her.

"Why?" She drawls, her smooth is voice unnaturally hoarse. There are reddish marks completely around her neck, just above the metal dog collar she always wears. Did someone try to strangle her? Damn.

"Because every girl and woman is supposed to have an handkerchief. It's a Japanese thing." I explain quickly, ignoring the obvious angry blotching on my cousin's neck.

"Alright," She tiredly agrees. There are dark circles under her eyes and a pale tint to her skin. "Let me go get them from my closet."

She stores trophies from kills in her closet. There must have been a target, a dead guy, that collected handkerchiefs. And she wants to give them to me.

"Your trophy handkerchiefs?" I exclaim, slightly wired out. No one wants the handkerchiefs of a dead guy.

"No, I collect handkerchiefs."

"You collect handkerchiefs?" I question, utterly baffled and thrown off. Never once have I seen a handkerchief in this house. "Why?!"

"Because they remind me of Grandpa." She defends. "Fuck you."

I pause, we've been living together for over a year, yet this hobby has never been brought up. I inquire as to what else I don't know about her. She answers with a mysterious and jovial grin. "You will _never_ know." Then she breaks out into an evil 'mwahahaha' laugh and walks away to the upstairs, to her room. Just before she steps on the spiral stair case, Alana turns around, her brown eyes crinkle with mirth, and she arrogantly declares, "I win again.", then continues to up the stairs.

The cool line lingers in the air, and with no ill will I think, 'Fuck, she totally did.'

Then both of us are laughing, her rough and hoarse chuckles fall from upstairs. There is a painful throbbing in my cut up hand, but nothing can take away how great I feel. No school and two friends, it's the definition of happiness.

* * *

><p><em>October 22nd<em>

The school desks are pushed together, six of them in the form of a large rectangle. The blue blanket I brought is lying on top of the makeshift platform along with a beige wicker basket. Alana is laying flat on the left side, her gaze focused on the scene past the classroom window. I have a red quilt wrapped around me, keeping me warm for the extreme air conditioning, and am licking away some of the flavor from my lips. Tonight I have brought with me an assortment of snacks and food; our favorite sandwiches, chips, cookies, candy, and a lidded bowl of popcorn. The cold milk is sealed inside a plain and large thermos. Just earlier Dee was mocking my idea of a school picnic.

"What are we gonna do if someone comes? Throw candy at them and say 'taste the rainbow bitch'?"

"Leave the stuff an run. It's only food."

"Whatever, I'm totally smashing popcorn in someone's face."

It turns out that the food is a good idea since the fight has turned into a drive in movie. On the building across from us, the Rain battle is being projected onto a beige wall, though the fight has yet to officially start. The eavesdropping device is completely unnecessary tonight; instead, Dee just opens a window in the classroom and let the sounds flood through from the Cervello's speakers.

It is two till eleven.

"**There will be no time limit**."

"Heey!" Squalo calls antagonizing from the screne, his sharp face brimming with arrogance and excitement. "Looks like you still haven't learned your lesson from a week ago." The tall man with thick blonde hair and viciously quick movements raises his mighty gladiator sword. "I'll make you regret not running away a week ago!"

My classmate Yamamoto-san looks at him with a calm but excited stare. There is a smile on his lips and a glitter in his eyes as he looks upon his fearsome and revered opponent. A bamboo sword rests upon his shoulders like a baseball bat, and his fingers grip it tighter. "Haha!" he laughs, humored by his opponents dominating words. "You never know if you don't you give it a try."

Their stadium tonight is the wrecked and abandoned building of Namimori's middle school. The concrete structure is scorched with dirt marks and planted with holes bigger than cars. Thick streams of crystal clear water streams from the ceiling and pool onto the ground in an attempt at symbolizing the meaning of the ring. Every floor is slightly flooded and flowing with liquid blue, but the lowest floor has already reached past a foot, though both the swordsmen are standing and moving in the liquid with no problem. It is the prettiest of all Cervello's set-ups and seems to be modeled after a fountain, only instead of overflowing when full, it floods. Mysterious and cool, just like falling rain.

"**Now**, **for the Ring of Rain**: **Superbi Squalo vs**.** Yamamoto Takeshi**. **Begin the Battle!**!"

Superbi launches in fast, swiping at Yamamoto-san almost faster than my eyes can follow, with ripples of water left in his trail. But the teenage swordsman leans forward just as swiftly and has the bloodthirsty blade swipe above him while he does a low step forward. I almost miss the sight of strange pellets chasing after him, exploding into a blast of smoke and a recoil of water that both swordsmen easily avoid by a few quick steps.

Earlier, before the match started, my cousin told of the legendary Superbi Squalo who fights tonight. She told me, with a false apathy, that he is the current sword emperor, unparalleled in the craft, and renowned throughout the whole world by the time he was fourteen. His achievements and adventures go beyond the wildest dreams, and the Vongola all wept with joy when he agreed to join them so was his infamy and skill. '_He is one of the best killers around. Better than me. And I've got the proof to show it_.'

On Dee's back there is a thin scar, from her right shoulder blade to her left hip the slim, almost delicate, silver line runs. It's almost pretty, so perfectly diagonal and balanced, as if had been made by an artist with a gossamer touch. Now I know where it came from.

Yamamoto-san is talking about how his image training paid off when Squalo disappears before his eyes, leaving behind a ripple of water. The Varia commander, second in charge of the most infamous cluster of killers, clearly has years of experience and talent at disposal. His superfluous arrogance is justified by every cut he gives, yet, that Yamamoto Takeshi...He seems to have battled Squalo before and his confidence subtly clouds around him. Even with seeing what the other Varia members can do, even with knowing how great and fearsome Squalo is, Yamamoto-san seems so sure. Perhaps... he... really does...have a chance...?

The infamous shark swings around a large cement pillar and clangs his sharp sword against Yamamoto-san's blunt bamboo. The young Asian barely fends off the attack, and keeps a focused expression even as Squalo yells for him to DIE and slashes some more. There is another explosion shooting from Squalo's sword when he swings it, and water combines with it to make a ginormous blast that consumes the screen. But the blast spins upward into a cloud of mist and an upward swirl of darkly lit waters. It's art to look at with the twinkling water and spinning rings of currents. How incredible it is to manipulate your environment and its elements so effortlessly.

Among the leaky and worn down building, standing in the center of the blue hazed lights and dripping tank, is Yamamoto Takeshi. The bamboo stick is gone from his hands, replaced, or rather transformed, into a sleek tradition Japanese sword with black cloth hilt. The water steams from him like humid rain and his face is slick and runny from the spraying but still those eyes hold steady. His thin causal clothing, something you would see on any teenage boy walking down the street, is now sticking against his toned body, slightly crumpled and very soaked. With a strange grasp on his samurai weapon, Yamamoto-san has successfully evaded one the scariest assassins in the mafia world.

"Ah!" Alana exclaims in a fangirl like way. "A form-changing sword!"

I stuff the salty and buttery popcorn in my mouth, throwing a few M&M's after words to balance the taste. No longer am I surprised by these strange mafiosi and their toys; though, Alana probably wants to steal this thing now too...

As Squalo faces his teenage opponent, the long-haired man seems flabbergasted and pissed off that his attack has been blown back by an amateur. Yet even as he yells and screams and flies across the water with a trail of rigorous waves, the bloodthirsty shark never losses that ravenous smile. "HEEY! Don't freeze up on me! Weakling!"

And true to his sword Yamamoto-san stays, holding and wielding it like a well-trained muscle. His confidence itself cuts through any insults and criticism that Squalo throws at him. My classmate's mind seems to be entirely focused on winning. When Superbi attacks again, his furious waves attempt to splatter against the baseball star, but is sliced through and properly deflected. The bare hands dance with the sword, using elegant and efficient movements to control and carry the water along with it, protecting himself with the thick current of water he draws. Such fast and fluid movements mimics a dance of sorts, and Yamamoto-san a dancer. The emperor's sword slices through the water wall without wounding, but the water is beaten down to the floor by gravity, revealing a half kneeling, fully unscathed, and utterly tranquil Yamamoto-san. His samurai sword stands straight, shielding its wielder from direct harm.

Yet Superbi wears a rather pleased expression on his face, proclaiming Yamamoto-san an idiot for not attacking after defending. According to the loud man, it was the only chance to wound him. I pop in some more delicious munchies into my slightly gaping mouth and agree with the Italian man; given Yamamoto-san's disposition in the battle, he should be taking every advantage he can get. I lick the salt off my lips, and shiver at the expression crossing my classmates face. A foxy smile and closed eyes, the muffled chuckles are heard easily but seem to ring in harmony with the dripping and streaming water around him. A little laugh leaves those simpering lips, a passive aggressive condescension playing hide and seek in the simple three-syllable laugh. Ha...ha...ha. "When you say last..." Yamamoto-san muses cheerily with well hidden anger. "You sure like to talk big don't you."

The easygoing facade flashes away, replaced with sharp eyes, cutting words, and a thinning smile. "Let me first make this clear. This isn't all there is to the Shigure Souen Style."

He raises his weapon, tip pointed directly at his opponent, ready to pierce through the blue mist and blue aqua and straight into his opponent's fighting pride. A golden swallow is engraved on top of the golden guard, ready to fly. Then there is a rush, Yamamoto-san breaks into a baseball run with his sword following and his left shoulder leading the way. His hands tighten, his teeth clench, and a blur slashes across Squalo only to be blocked. But then the sword falls to Yamamoto-san's right hand sneakily, I hadn't even noticed he dropped it, ripping away at Squalo's already dodging stomach. The Shark had been quick enough to dodge, to throw his body backwards, bending forward as to receive the least amount of damage possible. To succeed in such a feat, to react inhumanly quickly, to throw away thoughts and panic to replace with instinct and movement, how gifted is this man?

And if this man who yells too much, moves too quickly, and lust for blood like a shark in frenzy, is only someone considered for being the Varia boss— just what kind of monster is the Varia boss himself?

I shiver, remembering the murderous, overwhelming, and unanticipated presence from the Thunder Battle.

Even though Superbi Squalo, Second Sword Emperor, candidate for Varia boss, and experienced assassin, falls into the water on his back, I know better than to count him out yet. I could see it, his amazing dodge, how his body was prepared, how there was no resistance. This Italian silver haired man is a long ways from striking out. I wonder if that incredibly confident Yamamoto-san realizes this, that the big leagues is far more extreme than any middle schooler can expect. Judging by that chocked expression when Squalo emerges from the body like a great white leaping from the sea, he doesn't.

"That didn't do anything at all." Squalo comments condescendingly calm. He stands up, Spartan sword raised diagonally in front of him with one hand, resting in its natural position. The metal is crying for blood, and the water rolling off of its sharp edge forms like tears of past victims. Its owner stares strait ahead undauntedly, brimming with the intensity of fighting. I can almost hear Superbi's blood rushing as he grins and calls to Yamamoto-san. Like this, in his most natural and adrenaline filled state, Superbi Squalo seems handsome. His violent passion seeps into his face, and those brine blue eyes, subtle smile, and soaked blonde hair suits him.

"Heey." He calls languidly, the Japanese sounds rolling off his tongue like a mean caress. "This style of yours, the one you call invincible," His voice raises high with the taunt. "—is that all there is to _it_?!"

That long hair of his, which is partly sticking to his face and partly dripping with water, is cut so his hard blue eyes have no difficulty into staring beyond. That posture, so perfect and high-class and ready to strike, contains the cunning and unbeatable beast within. Those dark and high lifted brows have only the slightest of tension. This man, his nerves are shuddering with the want to kill, his mind is churning with the ways to kill, and his expression seems to call out for Yamamoto-san. He wants more from him, more and more and more. His arm is definitely aching to slice and chop meat. My blood hums inside of me, that beating in my chest takes off, and more that anything that great Superbi Squalo absolutely deserves to win. I hope he looks this glorious when slaughtering Yamamoto Takeshi.

My classmate is frowning, understating his opponent's sheer genius and skill just as I have. That confidence of Yamamoto-san's hasn't wavered, but the pressure just increased ten-fold.

"Other than that, there is something else that I am not getting." Squalo says. "And that's that, during that swing just now, why did you use the back of the sword instead of the blade?"

Yamamoto-san smiles, and turns his head causing a runoff of water to slide down his face. "Well that—I did it to win against you, not to kill you."

Alana gasps at the unintentional insult and then laughs at the rudeness. I'm slightly aghast that such a young boy has the nerve to be so rude to his sempai. To say he doesn't have to take him carefully.

"HEEY!" Squalo roars, insulted. "AREN'T YOU UNDERESETIMADINGT ME TOO MUCH**!**" Then he goes in to strike. "Looks like you still don't understand what kind of situation you're in! I'll make it so you can never open that conceited mouth of yours again!"

Yamamoto Takeshi pulls up a water barrier with his sword, and Squalo, with a beastly grin and fluttering bangs, does the exact same while running. The waters swoosh up, and the shark goes in. For a second there is just that blue liquid, pouring and rushing down and up. Then emerges Squalo, his black leather uniform flashing along with a glint of his sword, and a splatter of blood comes from Yamamoto-san. My classmates barely holds his form together, internally fending off shock, and continues to watch Squalo as the man jumps back a step. Superbi flings the crimson from his blade and angles his thin face up, basking in feel of cutting. Those thick blonde bangs cover his gaze and a warm smile taunts on his pale lips.

"How's that! Hurts, doesn't it!? Let me tell you one last piece of bad news that will make you despair." He speaks cruelly and tilts his head up so that one focused blue eye peas out from his bangs and can focus on Yamamoto Takeshi's expression. "I've completely seen through all of your techniques. This Shigure Souen Style of yours is one I've already defeated long ago!"

By this point Yamamoto-san has lost his balance and now sits in the water, the bright blue liquid slowly easing past his hips. His back is hunched over slightly, but there is still a shine of fight left in him. Even as Superbi Squalo continues on with his story while showcasing a predatory smile.

"To defeat the man called Emperor of the Sword, and his mastery of the sword, I searched for strong opponents. Then, I heard of a vanquishing style in the east, a sword of murder said to be completely flawless. _That_ was the Shigure Style." His low carrying voice rises into a victorious shout. He is basking in the memory. "I found them, the successor to the style and his two apprentices. They used the same eight forms as you." Something about his tone implies the battle was fun and killing them felt like a well-deserved honor. "But it was just some imitation of ancient sword technique! I experienced each and every form! It didn't do them any good! I sliced them to ribbons!"

I take note of how Squalo's Japanese speak looses its smoothness in the face of his excitement.

Yamamoto-san's head is hanging down, and his right hand is clutching at the bloody gouge on his left shoulder. The thin white button down and black undershirt is torn in the wounded area, giving full view of the split skin and streaming red. "I've never heard of such a thing..." The red blood oozes down and swirls with the blue water below. He stands up and the floating blood fades into a watery shadow. "The Shigure Souen I've heard about is completely flawless and invincible."

"Heeey! Are you an IDIOT?!" Squalo asks, and I think he really wants to know. Personally, my bet is that Yamamoto Takeshi is just really stubborn.

The Asian looks on, gaze still steady and water—maybe sweat?—pouring down his body. "You won't know if you don't give it a try."

The Shark looks on, gaze heated and murderous presence growing—no, revealing. His razor sharp teeth are bating themselves for dinner. "I'm... I'm done holding back. "

They lunge forward together, weapons held back ready to strike. Then Squalo is swinging his sword and splaying water everywhere, so much water it temporarily shields Yamamoto-san from my view, and then there is more swinging—Squalo is calm and smiling—and blood pops from my classmate's right eye. I gasp and shudder, clearly recalling when I scratched my cornea and the incredible pain that followed. Yamamoto-san gurgles of pain resonate with me as he hits the flooded ground. I look to Squalo who is moving on the balls of his feet, shouting out and going in for another swing with his hair flowing wildly behind him.

My classmate barely holds his blade up in time to repel the attack, and as he goes in for a swing with poor balance, his sword is hit with a strange clang. Squalo's sword rests against his for a moment, perhaps trying to push back Yamamoto-san. The shark's Spartan weapon climbs up into the air, the steel glinting with water and light, then falls down on climax like a guillotine. Yamamoto-san doesn't step away from the execution.

"Why doesn't he move?" I question, accidentally out loud. I shoot my brown eyes down and noticed smashed popcorn in my grasp after which I release onto the floor before looking back to the screen. Yamamoto-san punches his sword-wielding hand before being sent flying into the concrete wall by his opponent. He gets up as quickly as he can, his elbow against the wall and a bamboo stick in his other hand. The injured middle schooler whom I barely know, keeps himself from being sliced again. The strain in his face is pitiful, but my cheers lie with the thrill kill of a man, Superbi Squalo.

"So how is it?" The proud assassin mocks, while zooming in closer for Yamamoto-san's death. "You are looking a little under the weatheeeer!"

Yamamoto-san begins running as well, in the direction of his death, but makes a sudden leap on a collapsed pillar of concrete, then another leap onto the next floor. He's lucky that there are many dangerous and gaping holes in this building.

Wait a minute, isn't that a safety hazard? Why hasn't this building been torn down yet? Someone could get hurt!

I chalk it up to a Japanese thing, and watch with a grin as Squalo bursts through the concrete ground and continuously jabs his sword at Yamamoto-san in a fashion too quick to follow. When the numerous jabs end, and Squalo's sword is still clean of blood, Yamamoto-san beings to fall. His body plunges through the dangerous gaping hole and splats onto the water with a smack that hurts to the point I can even feel it.

The camera goes back to the victor. He stands tall in the sprinkling water, rain slipping down the long blonde hair that sticks and drips on his shiny and black leather-covered knees. His feet are spread wide, his head tilted down just so slightly that his eyes are unreadable from beneath his bangs, and his mouth curls up at both sides—satisfied. Superbi Squalo just glows in the luminescent light of victory.

"Well then brat! I'm going to shred your heart!"

Yamamoto Takeshi is laying against the rectangular concrete pillar, at the top, the only part not completely submerged in murky ultramarine blue. One piece of concrete lies limp in the lake, the other keeps him from sliding in and drowning to death. He looks shipwrecked. His only moving body part are those lips as they mumble about a dad who would be mad at this one-sided battle. The kid has finally lost his conceited self-confidence.

"Heey, you still wanna go? With that Shigure Style you're so proud of, How about it! Since you're the successor, how about I show you all eight forms." It's not really an offer, and even if it was, Yamamoto-san is too beaten to refuse. "In the end, when the eighth form Autumn Rain is released, you can just tragically disintegrate!" Even when speaking quietly, Squalo's words still seem to scream. The vicious man turns to the camera and smiles really pretty for it. "Heeey! You brats! This katana brat's ugliest last moments, you'd better burn them into your mind!"

He is gloating and shouting on the ledge of the hole, but from that pillar, the one that the water is slowly rising over, Yamamoto-san stands up. Even though his hanging head has no strength, that firm stance declares this fight is not yet over. Squalo tells him to lay down, offers to break him that way. With too much confidence, Yamamoto-san declines. "Because the Shigure Style is completely flawless and invincible."

Squalo's expression quiets, and thoughts church behind those sharp blue eyes. He is considering possibilities, his opponent's abilities, and his own strength. Then he smiles and vaults across the hole. "You trash! I'll start out by cutting out that insolent tongue of yours!"

Yamamoto-san rushes to meet him with blast of water flying at his feet, eventually jumping up so high that he lands behind Squalo on the second story. "Let's go."

"What did you come here for...?"

"Shigure Souen Style."

Both hands wrap around the hilt.

"Heey, looks like you don't have any brain cells."

The Asian dashes forward in typical baseball fashion, headfirst, and cutting and striding.

"I know that stance!"

Squalo lunges forward by the balls of his feet, just as Alana does when quickly moving, sword trailing behind him. "Do it now! Autumn Rain!"

The extravagant bamboo stick mists into the razor sharp blade again, the blade that is different shades of steel blue.

The swordsman's eyes are the same, steady, determined, seeing something in their opponent that is hidden from me. Closer they get, the high water parting beneath their feet, but never does the eye contact break. Closer, and closer. Splashing, and splashing. They are feet away from each other. Then black leather and a Spartan sword clashes with teenage casual and a katana, and water is everywhere, covering everything. The screen is blinded by the rushing blue, but clears quickly, revealing a black uniform and long hair being thrown back and a panting Asian youth standing firm. The katana is now bamboo again.

Squalo lands disgracefully in the water, on his back like a bitch. Poor guy, to be humiliated by an amateur swordsman. By a middle schooler.

"YOU! DID YOU USE A STYLE OTHER THAN SHIGURE SOUEN STYLE?!" His tone is absolute furry, and he is now turned onto his hands and knees. Though only his head and chest can be seen above the water.

"No," Yamamoto Takeshi explains, back turned to him and sword turned down. "That was also the Shigure Souen Style." Yamamoto-san smiles slightly, still watching Squalo from the corner of his eyes as he says, "The eighth form, pouring rain, was created by my dad."

Clearly his dad taught him this oh so sacred from but changed up the ending slightly so that it took the seasoned assassin by surprise. Why do men always feel the need to talk to each other about these things? Can't they ever just kill without words or wondering whys?

Squalo stands up silently with the water barely stirring as he did so. With that shiny black material he wears, the superior assassin wipes away the excess liquid from his face and fiercely glares at my classmate. "Hey, Brat...I really didn't think you would get this far." I here a hint of warm anger in his words, despite the calm demeanor around him. "So I don't get that pathetic strike with the back of your blade so far." He seems to be musing, mulling over what must seem to him, a grave insult. "You are making a mockery of a genuine match. Or do you have some other forms that I haven't seen before."

With idiotic honestly, the kid answers that the first through seven forms are the same one Squalo knows. This brat deserves to die for this stupidity alone! If Squalo doesn't win, I'm going to be super pissed.

"Looks like you are dead for sure after all!" Squalo proclaims with a hearty yell. "Having already tasted that poring rain once, I've already seen through it!"

Whoa, that's really cool. I don't know what 'seeing through it is' or the deal with poetic names for a sword movement is, but nonetheless Superbi sounds impressive.

"You really are something else. I guess there is nothing for it." Water drips off the golden bamboo sword as it rises into the air and Yamamoto-san grips it like a baseball bat. "Then I'll show it to you. Shigure Souen Style, Ninth form."

"What the hell is that ridiculous stance?" Squalo questions in ridicule and amusement. His eyes squint weirdly and unevenly, and he is holding back a laugh. "Are you planning to play baseball?

Yamamoto-san grits his teeth with a smile. Despite his bloodied and battered body, despite his ripped and torn clothes, despite his closed and swollen right eye, Yamamoto-san continues to smile and has a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Unfortunately, I'm not much good at anything other than baseball."

"Why the fuck is this kid so confident?!" I ask the world, slightly outraged by the discreet and subtle arrogance. He is just _so_ sure everything is going to go his way and he only barely tries to mask it. "Talk about a winner complex," I mutter.

"DON'T FEEZE UP ON ME BRAT!" Squalo yells gleefully while giving a succession of slashes, striking the water before him. The blade itself doges my eyes but its glints of light are clearly focused on one point. "EXPERIENCE THE TRUE POWER OF MY SWORD!"

Then like Moses, the water arches back and parts for him like the red sea. "DIE!" He screams, raising up a gigantic water wall, disproportional to his size, and only a light shadow can be seen through it.

"Let's go!" Yamamoto-san says before the water wall, moving by Squalo's sword, completely consumes him into its blue abyss.

...

...

Did he drown?

No, he disappeared.

Takeshi Yamamoto holds his sword horizontally in a defensive position, unscathed by Squalo's attack, breaking the water that hits him. It now falls like furious rain in the stadium. Squalo continues to chase after him, weaving around inside of an animated bullet of water, forcing his opponent to jerk his body around wildly to keep up. I don't question how he preforms the inhuman technique but watch on as he finally connects his sword with Yamamoto-san's. The middle schooler is blown backward in the air but manages to land on his feet and keep moving, dodging behind a pillar. Naturally Squalo follows, still encased in his mobile wall of water though it is dissipating fast.

The next actions happen so quickly I miss part of it when looking away in search of my large thermos of milk. I put the plastic opening to my parched lips when my attention is caught on Yamamoto-san being impaled through his stomach mid-air by Squalo's mechanical and unnaturally bent hand. Squalo twirls around, blond locks flailing with him, and the current of water crashes against his back as he stops. His stance never wavers, the assassin barely notices the wave, instead focused on something else. There was no falling body.

From behind, Yamamoto appears with his sword silently swinging down, every second of baseball practice utterly evident, crashing upon the back of Squalo's head before the seasoned assassin can draw his next breath. There is a confused pause, all of us in the audience are trying to figure out what just happened. Because it doesn't make sense. Then Squalo's body starts to fall and our senses come rushing back to reality. Oh. Shit that was quick.

"He won."

My favorite swordsman withers to the wet ground with his pretty silver strands fluttering behind him. No other movement follows.

The screen switches to a headshot of Yamamoto-san, who is grinning wildly with his injured right eye slammed shut. Ripped skin and bloody cuts don't hinder the happy expression he wears. He holds up an encrusted silver ring as proof. "I won."

Then deep laughter erupts. "He lost!" The man's—no, the monster's, I correct with a shiver—cruel and ruthless roars, filled to the brim with amusement, are even apparent in his words. "How pathetic!" Xanxus screams with laughter. "That Trash!"

I lift myself up and slide off the blanket-covered desk. With a few steps toward the classroom window, I rest my form against wall and continue peering out. A strange anger burns in my chest; it is righteous and flaming as I argue against Xanxus's ridicule. Squalo lost by chance, and despite his lost is still one of the best swordsmen out there. It's unfair to just mock him like this, to just throw him away as if he's worthless. From what I've seen tonight, he's worth everything. Squalo loves his profession, revels in what he does, and is damn good at it. A man like that deserves more than mockery from a thoughtless thug.

Yet my anger dissipated just as quickly as I look to the screen. My gaze is lost on the unconscious man paraded around on the screen. I never bother to look at the Varia or the young candidates: my eyes are only on _him_. If you fail a mission in the Varia, you die. I know this and am already feeling the world's loss. Such passion. Such talent. He was a man that outshone the world.

"He's outlived his usefulness. " Xanxus says darkly, blithely.

"Boss there's no need for you to do it yourself."

"Should I take care of it?"

"**Please stop**." A Cervello request with that irritating and monotone voice. "**It is dangerous to enter the aquarium at the moment. The designated water depth has been reached, and the ferocious sea beast has been released**."

On screen a metal gate is opened, and a mutant shark on steroids swims ferociously out. Larger than a whale shark and more aggressive than a Great White, the thing easily swarms around the completely flooded first floor. I blink twice, stunned at the monstrous spectacle.

The _fucking_ Vongola keep getting weirder and weirder.

I frown, thinking over the strange things I've been shown this week. Time traveling bazooka, magic flames, man-killing robots, swordsmen that can manipulate water. I breathe in deeply, ignoring the murmuring outside over Squalo's fate. The mafia is extraordinarily weird and incredibly crazy. They do impossible feats and then chalk it up to being cool. I smile, considering the concept. They are sort of like Alana and I.

On the movie screen, Yamamoto-san slings Squalo's arm across his shoulder and attempts to hold him up, but the Italian man is too tall and too heavy though, that overwhelming height obvious even compared to my tall classmate. The rain battle victor seems to crouch under the burden. Even the assassin's sword is uncooperative, dragging against the ground awkwardly. His eyes slide over toward the camera sheepishly, and his expression is too innocent for a natural born killer. "It's only natural to save someone in this situation, right?"

I glance back toward my cousin who is chewing on a chocolate chip cookie. Her brown eyes are focused on the projected images but are widened with disbelief. "This kid is an idiot isn't he?" I say a slight condescension in my voice.

My head tits toward the window the window and some soft hair brushes against my cheek at the movement. Even in poor lighting, its easy to see Dee make a face at what she considers idiocy. The scorn is her own, sensible, form of self-righteousness. I'll never tell her that part of me agrees saving with the talented and impressive Superbi Squalo. And_ that's_ why, because I'm so desperately grateful Squalo is being saved, I have to call Yamamoto-san a fool for it. Because I know it is foolish yet would do the same exact thing.

"Evidently, who the hell saves someone that was trying to kill them thirty seconds ago?"

The answer suddenly seems obvious to me, in an ironic type way. "The Vongola."

With snark and cynicism, and of course humor, she states that it is a first on the Vongola's behalf. I smile at the snide comment just as I do at all of her other snide comments. My cousin's greatest charm is her sense of humor. Her second greatest is her too white teeth.

The ominous dorsal fin glides through the water, murky blue aqua being pushed as it narrows in on Yamamoto-san's and Squalo's location. The leaking blood from my classmate attracts the hungry shark, the monstrous fish circles on the flooded story below, waiting and anticipating its prey. The moment those two fall, their skin will be shredded and ripped from their bones and every part of them will be disfigured and digested.

"Haha. How scary." The teenage boy says without a smile. "But it can't reach us yet."

But then the floor bellows them severs and both swordsman fall into the water below. _Irony is God's joke to the world_. A large piece of concrete keeps them afloat but the shark fin is coming.

"Hey! Your too noisy!" Squalo, who seems to have woken up, yells and then kicks Yamamoto-san away from him-away from the shark and the danger. My classmate lands, rather softly, on a far off island of ruble and Squalo stays as bait for the shark. And the predator bites, lunging out of the water, gulping Squalo, before immediately sinking back to its dark blue lair. The only left overs is a stream of furious bubbles, popping and gurgling on the surface. Then they stop, the water surface going still.

For a whole moment no one dare breathes.

The blue water swishes and streams calmly, even as red begins to stain the surface. Dark red floats aloft the blue ripples and I feel slightly sick as the Varia boss begins rudely laughing. Alana says something, to which I causally reply, but in my head there is only that red stain. Eaten alive. I'm ready to go home now.

I watch Yamamoto-san's figure, alone on the island of ruble with nothing but a bitter taste of death. Luckily, the camera only shows his back. It would be too sad to see his expression.

A Cervello appears on screen, announcing the winner (Yamamoto) and the next battle (mist). Immediately afterwards, we begin packing up our tasty treats. All the cookies, chips, candy, popcorn, sandwiches, and crackers are stuffed into Ziploc bags then stored away in the wicker basket, I take a swig of the cold milk before sealing it off and putting that away too. Dee only has us wait for ten minutes, enough time for all others to clear out, before leaving the school as well. There is no trouble this time as we walk to Alana's car—no bike because apparently it was stolen yesterday—and the drive is peaceful and quiet.

When we go home, cold conditioned air greets us. We speak for a moment then head to bed early. Surrounded by the cold blue blanket I used earlier, cuddled in the clothes I've been wearing all day, my eyes shut, closing off the image of slight light hiding beneath my door and closing off the tiredness that has been subtly creeping in. The smell of my room curls in my nose, and everything gets so comfortable and easy. I vaguely notice sleep drifting in. My last conscious thought is of the deceased swordsman, the one who was an emperor of his craft, revered and worshiped as an idol by killers. My last conscious thought is of how sad it is that he died.


End file.
